Awakening Arte (The Eldest Throne Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Before you go...

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Awakening Arte

  (The Eldest Throne Book 1)

  By Bernie Anés Paz

  1

  Breathe. Roun hugged his knees and pressed his head back against the trunk of the tree. The night swirled through the air like blood in water, tangible and all too perceptible. Breathe. Roun watched as its tendrils approached, each a different shade of black. He closed his eyes when the night washed over him.

  Tingles ran down his spine, then surged into a shiver and flare of goosebumps. It wasn’t long before ancient human instincts stirred awake, but he forced himself to stay calm. Only the deepest night at the edge of the world could swallow someone whole; here it would need to nibble, chew, digest.

  He could sense the night trying to do just that.

  Whispers and the sound of soft movement tickled his ears, both indistinct, but they coaxed his mind into giving them the shape of his fears. A prickling settled at the back of his neck and grew stronger until a hundred thousand gazes fell on him with enough intensity to feel like fingers clutching at his flesh. Roun’s entire body shrank from the sensation even though he knew none of it was real.

  The tremors came a moment later, forcing him to battle against his own limbs. He resisted the urge to run and held firm against the panic coiling ever tighter around his mind like an insidious parasite. Flight was what the night wanted him to choose, because then it could lead him further into its embrace.

  It was already trying. Roun knew he had been facing west. Simple logic told him the city was at his back, but his own wispy thoughts were insisting he couldn’t be certain of that.

  Breathe, he told himself again. In. Out. Make the rhythm yours. Let no one and nothing have it.

  The crunch of boots distracted him from his father’s mantra. Roun opened his eyes in surprise and cursed at himself. Viscous darkness surrounded him. He tilted his head in the sound's direction, wondering if maybe…

  A wave of rich golden light fell over him, dispersing the night. Two figures in padded armor followed behind it. Roun blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust as a halberd snapped down in front of him.

  “Calm, calm! He’s obviously no chimera,” a familiar voice said. Then, after a moment, “Roun?”

  “Noban?” he answered.

  Roun stood and faced the duo. Their armor bore the emblem of the Rozarian Guard, which was a blue, stylized eye that had rays of light in place of lashes. Noban held an élanic lantern, which was what gave off the glow that was as natural and warm as daylight. His partner, a Guardswoman Roun didn’t know, was frowning at him over her lowered halberd.

  Roun bowed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Noban grunted while his companion stood there, confused. “He’s a guttersnipe that often comes to me for work,” the Guardsman explained, but he followed the words with a smile. “What the damn are you doing out here? Dusk was some time ago.”

  Roun winced. “Uh—”

  “I’m going to hit you if you say training again.”

  “Then… I got lost?”

  Noban eyed him over the lantern while his companion flipped her halberd upright and glanced between them.

  “Training…?” she asked. “Looked like he was cowering in the night to me.”

  “That’s what he calls training.”

  The woman examined Roun with amusement, gaze moving from his wild chin-length hair to the messy black stubble on his face. She prodded him with the butt of her halberd until he slapped it away and glared at her.

  “Well, you’re not as scrawny as I thought, but you still need more sense and a better dream than whatever’s got you out here ‘training.’” She sighed and faced Noban. “What are we going to do with him?”

  “Bring him with us, of course,” Noban answered. When Roun frowned and tried to think of a way to get them to leave him alone, Noban laughed and added, “You well know our duty forbids us from leaving you out here, so don’t make a fuss.”

  Roun reluctantly let them escort him, but his dour mood softened when he realized Noban wasn’t heading back to the city and was instead allowing him to tag along for the rest of the patrol. Even better, Noban filled the lull with his inexhaustible supply of tales.

  The hours drifted by so quickly that he ended up staying with them the entire night, to the annoyance of Noban’s companion.

  With dawn drawing near, they went to hand off a final report to the shift captain at the gate—who rolled her eyes at seeing Roun again—and then strode into the sovereign city of Rozaria.

  Everyone liked to describe it as a place of beauty before practicality during the day, but night instead left the city a labyrinth carved into existence by the orbicular élanic lamps along buildings and streets. Not that most folk would ever notice; the streets were empty.

  They paused beyond the gate and turned north, towards the center of the world.

  The sky was a sea of deep dark blue devoid of all light save for the Eldest Throne’s silhouette out on the northern horizon. It was always visible, no matter how dark the night became, and was difficult to mistake as anything else; the countless glowing fissures covering the spire and its rotating amber halos made sure of that.

  “Gate’s timekeeper told me dawn was due,” Noban muttered. “We should wait.”

  Roun licked his lips in anticipation and could already feel a knot twisting in his gut. He knew better than to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it.

  Heartbeats later, the obsidian Throne’s many cracks flared awake and turned it into a fiery plume of gold tinged by red. Élan, the life force of both flesh and spirit, pulsed through the air and granted the world the gifts of light and warmth. The closest regions would soon have enough to paint their skies a softer blue, but here it would gradually shift through morning’s usual colors.

  The cascade of élan was still more than strong enough to sense; Roun greeted the dawn by bowing as the Empress’s sacred power washed over him.

  Serenity bloomed within his chest, but nothing else happened. Roun slumped his shoulders and sighed. Throne didn’t choose me today either… He didn’t dwell on the disappointment for long; there would be many other dawns and he had no shortage of hope.

  Both Noban and his companion were watching him. Noban wore a frown, and his partner now looked at him with outright pity. It occurred to Roun that he might have made his hopes obvious; the realization left the soft brown tones of his face burning.

  An awkward silence filled the air before being broken by a stirring city eager to make use of every bit of the day.

  Roun bowed to Noban and his partner. “Thank you for escorting me.”

  Noban’s frown deepe
ned and he parted his lips to speak, but a sudden torrent of screams cut him off. The Guardsman whirled as Roun peered over the man’s armored shoulder to where confused bystanders were frowning at the people fleeing from an alleyway.

  “Chimera!” several of them screamed repeatedly, but it only took the first warning to encourage onlookers to sprint away in blind panic. It wasn’t long until the cry filled the air like a chant and the streets were littered with discarded baskets and carts.

  Noban and his partner gripped their halberds and took off at a sprint, leaving Roun forgotten. He tracked them as they shoved their way towards the origin of the cries, then watched the chimera pull itself free from the alleyway.

  Roun froze as soon as he saw it. A dream eater.

  It was the name of this specific breed of chimera, and it looked like an artistic rendition of a slug. Its flesh was milky white with crisp black patterns across it. Ridiculous amounts of slime oozed from slits along its sides, leaving the surrounding area splattered with mucus. The mouth beneath the four wriggling tentacles of its head was what drew his attention, however.

  Eerie tubular organs undulated from within the maw, then chunky little shards sprang from them and struck fleeing victims in the back. Those that were hit jerked from the impact, but continued running, oblivious to the smooth, featureless bits of amber protruding from their backs—and then toppled over moments later, alarm flashing across their faces. Their eyes soon fluttered closed.

  Dead at a glance, but Roun knew they were only sleeping. He stared in horror as the dream eater lurched forward and opened its maw to scoop up its slumbering prey whole.

  Noban and his partner shouted as their halberds cut into the soft flesh of the head. The chimera scrunched back in surprise, then responded by spitting out more amber shards. One struck Noban’s partner dead center in the chest and dropped her. Noban stood over her, a mixture of fear and determination on his face, as the dream eater rose to its full height and faced him.

  Breathe. Roun sprinted forward, shoving a fleeing man out of the way, and dropped into a slide beside the élanic lantern Noban had dropped. The dawn had filled it anew, but remained unlit from being in the Throne's own light. Roun could still feel the power stored within its deep obsidian, so he clutched the handle, scrambled back up to his feet, and threw it with all his might.

  He was too late to stop the dream eater from spitting its thick needles at Noban; the first two missed, but the third caught the Guardsman along the thigh as Noban drove his halberd into its glistening bulk with a snarl.

  The dream eater didn’t even wait for him to fall asleep; it swooped down to devour him, but then jerked to a halt and instead followed the trajectory of the lantern as it spun by.

  Roun rushed forward while the dream eater made frantic, desperate sounds and swallowed the lantern, only to realize it wasn’t the plumper meal it had assumed and spat it back out. The dream eater wailed while Roun grabbed Noban beneath the shoulders and began dragging him away.

  The Guardsman was already struggling against the effects of the dream eater’s arte, but Noban managed enough focus to crane his neck. Roun gave the man a smile. Noban returned a grimace.

  “Roun…” Noban mumbled. “Run…”

  The Guardsman’s eyes closed.

  Roun knew he was right. Noban was too heavy, and even if Roun could drag him away, he’d just be dooming everyone else to being eaten alive. I don’t need to do anything as impossible as killing the chimera. I only need a little time. The city’s sacred guardians were probably already on their way.

  The mere idea of being able to aid them in even so small a way left a thrill burning within his chest.

  Roun dropped Noban, tugged free the man’s arming sword, and faced the dream eater. The chimera ignored him and instead prepared to begin its feast, but Roun darted forward and sliced open one of the head tentacles as it lowered itself.

  Ichor gushed free, gold and glowing from the élan it carried, but inky streaks also tainted the fluid, marking it as the lifeblood of a chimera.

  The dream eater let out a garbled scream, but Roun was already moving. He dove behind a cart just as shards landed with heavy thuds. He rose, peeking over the edge, and saw the dream eater preparing to lunge. Roun panicked and threw himself again, but slipped on the mucus that was all over the place and instead fell hard against the tiled street. He slid a short distance across the slime, barely far enough to avoid being caught by the dream eater’s maw.

  It tossed aside the cart and peered down at him. Roun struggled to get up, his hands and knees skidding across the mucus, and stumbled back as the dream eater fired its arte at him. He was too slow—one sunk into his foot. There was a rush of warmth instead of pain as the shard melted into him and then intense drowsiness followed. Roun shuddered as he fought against the initial onslaught and forced himself to remain awake. Breathe.

  He straightened, raised Noban’s sword, and angled it at the dream eater with a two-handed grip. Another breath, then Roun moved forward with what he planned to be a defiant swing, but the sword slipped from his weakening grip and he lost his balance. Roun fell back on his rump and the sword clattered across the slick tiles.

  The dream eater loomed over him and opened its maw. Better me than someone who’ll be missed, I suppose.

  Roun knew he would never open his eyes again if they closed, so he picked himself up and glared at the dream eater. The chimera lunged, but he stood his ground against both it and the terror besieging him.

  Breathe—It was the last thought Roun had before darkness fell over him.

  2

  Kuro perched atop the ornate stone walls of Avyleir Library, his feet just enough beyond the edge that he was teetering. Every Imperial Library was a cross between palace and fortress, though some aspects were exaggerated more than others. In Avyleir’s case, the walls were far higher and thicker than they needed to be, which left the ground far, far below, and by ‘ground’ he meant the slope of the gigantic hill the city was sprawled across.

  Not that it mattered to him; Kuro maintained his balance with flawless grace, all the while humming and twirling his parasol as he watched Rozaria City go about its morning.

  Puffs of smoke rose from homes, folk spilled out into the streets, and the breeze carried the aromas of baking bread and sizzling meat. They mixed with the always-present stench of sewage and the distinct scent of the Endless Sea that spanned beyond the harbor to the south.

  Kuro mused that the Endless Sea's name might be worth a chuckle or two someday, but for now it was the truth. There was already no greater body of water elsewhere in the growing world, and the southern edge of the Nightwall continued to belch out more sea as it retreated. It still hadn’t even given them so much as an island or two.

  Kuro eyed the Nightwall while clucking his tongue. You’re very misbehaved, aren’t you? It filled the horizon and looked like a gentle barrier of clouds, all white, soft, and deceptively harmless-looking. That was how it appeared when it waned in flight from the Eldest Throne’s awakening, but he knew up close it was a miasmic shroud of night, just as it was whenever the Throne slumbered and the Nightwall waxed closer.

  But never quite as close as the night before, thankfully. The world would have been a crowded place indeed if it were otherwise. Though it’s still too small depending on who you ask.

  Kuro sighed a very dejected sigh, began spinning his oversized parasol in the opposite direction, and turned his gaze to brighter things, like the city itself.

  Rozaria was all concentric circles that rose to where Avyleir Library claimed the peak of the hill. Azure cherry trees and trident maples filled the districts, and the blossoms of the former flitted through the air, accentuating the other shades of blue found throughout their city. Kuro spotted their beloved color in the shingles of roofs, in the great billowing banners beneath lampposts, and all along the tiled fountains and towering bathhouses that were supplied by the city’s aqueducts. They had even decorated Avyleir Library in regal
blues.

  A beautiful morning and a city to match. Kuro laughed and used his free hand to sweep back his long, loose hair. Of course, the frantic screaming of his name was proof that nothing remained unmarred forever.

  Kuro’s smile widened.

  A library aide burst through the door to the garden behind him. Kuro turned and rubbed his smooth chin while the man sprinted around bushes, glancing into the secluded resting spots, benched fountains, and pavilions, all while continuing to scream Kuro’s name.

  “Yes?” Kuro called.

  The aide jumped, glanced up, and then his body tried to do several things at once; the man bowed, pointed, shook his head, and waved him away from the edge, but mostly ended up looking like he was having a seizure.

  Maybe he is, Kuro mused.

  “My lord!” the aide cried. “The master librarian has called for an immediate gathering of all her exarchs—which is to say she called the meeting a few hours ago. Apologies, but you are the only exarch unaccounted for.”

  Kuro nodded. He had noted all the fuss, but though he took his duties as a librarian exarch seriously, he had long ago lost his patience for all the posturing and stiff formality that came with the position. Tardiness rewarded him with a summary of the most important details from the meeting’s reading of missives and reports.

  “Might this have to do with the Throne’s little tantrum?” Kuro asked, turning to glance at it for a moment as he spoke.

  The man paled. “Tantrum? With all due respect, watching the halos vanish and the Throne dim stole at least a dozen years from my life. The entire city is in a panic! Something like this has never happened before!”

  The aide said the last bit as paradoxically as his body’s prior movements—both with confidence and uncertainty.

  Kuro shrugged. “Inform the master librarian I’m on my way.”

  He strolled along the wall, back toward the series of pavilions, azure cherry trees, and small garden buildings he had used as a makeshift stairway.

  “Exarch Kuro, my lord—again with all due respect—I beg you to come down with haste and do so before you fall and leave me empty-handed. The master librarian is furious enough as is.”