Awakening Arte (The Eldest Throne Book 1) Read online

  “Do librarians also name our artes?” Roun asked.

  “No; most Grimoires do end up aligning their awakening arte’s name with their title, but your artes—and any techniques derived from them—are named by you alone, with the exception of those like Kamil. This isn’t something you’ll need to worry about until after you graduate from your probation, however, so you’ve plenty of time to think about it. Any other questions?” When no one spoke, Zareus nodded and continued. “The second, yet far more important concept, is that of spirits. All living things possess a spirit; most people should know that much. What most don’t know is that around every spirit is an inert, viscous abyss known as the spiritual vessel, which is where élan is stored.”

  He waggled his scalpel at the group.

  “When you use an arte, your spirit draws élan into itself to manifest the arte. When your body attempts to heal, your spirit physically cycles élan, not unlike the quickening of breath and pulse while exerted. In other words, élan is the currency of Grimoires, but it’s your spirit that decides the value of each drop. The more powerful your spirit, the more powerful you become in every way. In order to cultivate your spirit, you’ll first need to channel the Eldest Throne’s dawnlight throughout yourselves. You’ll understand this better come morning, so I’ll leave the explanation there. For today, we’ll be practicing two of the only three artes Grimoires share without also sharing blood. They’re collectively known as cantrips.”

  Zareus stepped over to a cabinet and passed out tiny palm-sized blocks of wood with a sphere of deep obsidian embedded into them. Roun turned it over in his hand, curious. It looked the same as the orbs placed into élanic lanterns rather than ones meant to store élan for later use.

  Sethra was turning hers over too. “I was hoping I could finally show off my awakening arte. Oh well.”

  “You’ve already tried your arte?” Roun asked.

  “I kept pestering my chaperone until she gave in,” Sethra said with a grin. “How about you?”

  Roun shook his head and frowned. “I don’t think anyone saw my arte, and I definitely know nothing about it.”

  Sethra shrugged. “Well, it hasn’t been that long for you, so I wouldn’t worry about it, but the librarians are already ordaining the rest of us. I can’t wait to see what they’ll call me.”

  “I’ll be disappointed if she isn’t named the Grimoire of Gluttony,” Laeshiro said with a laugh. The rest of them quickly joined him in laughter.

  “Speaking of which, now I know where all the food Sethra eats ends up,” Roun said. “In her spiritual vessel.”

  Sethra rolled her eyes as Kamil and Laeshiro burst out laughing again, but she was grinning. “Very funny.”

  Zareus walked by while scratching at the blotch of ichor on his chest and addressed the group. “The first cantrip, Imbue, allows you to feed your stored élan into something else. Preferably something that won’t let it seep back out into the air. All three cantrips have been used extensively, so it should be easy for you to intuit how they work. Give it a try.”

  They all nodded and watched as Sethra cupped her device in both hands and closed her eyes. The room was lit by lamps and not true daylight, so the device immediately gave off a warm glow.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” Sethra said with a surprised gasp. “The hard part was holding the cantrip together, especially because it feels all kinds of weird.”

  Eager to try for himself, Roun also shut his eyes and focused. He soon became strangely aware of the device in his hands and sensed it as some kind of massive, empty container.

  Roun took a breath, thought of filling the space, and soon found himself agreeing with Sethra. The sensation was impossible to describe, but it sort of felt like examining a pile of components and then intuiting how they came together to create a specific object by looking at each piece.

  It still took some effort and thought, and tinkering with the arte itself was tricky; Roun supposed that being shown how to do something, even if by a master, still didn’t translate into mastery.

  He managed to stumble through the process, though. The source was his spiritual vessel, present within his awareness like an urn teeming with moist, viscous power. He willed that power outward. His heartbeat quickened and an itch spread through his veins, and then he trembled in awe as élan poured into the device.

  He snapped his eyes open to find the device glowing and grinned, but then noticed the others staring at him. It confused him for a moment, at least until the world started spinning and nausea overwhelmed him.

  Roun swallowed bile before parting his lips to insist he was fine—

  —and everything went black.

  6

  Roun woke on the floor with a circle of worried faces hovering over him. Kamil, Laeshiro, and Sethra, he realized, and further back, with an impassive gaze, stood Zareus. He jolted upright and immediately regretted it.

  A headache rang through his head with the force of a hammer.

  “I’m fine,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and dropped back down against the cool floor.

  “Roun...” Laeshiro’s voice. “You don’t look fine at all, my friend.”

  He reopened his eyes. “I awakened not too long ago, so that’s probably it.”

  Laeshiro looked unconvinced. “Your ascension shouldn’t have left you with so little élan, but even if it had, you should have absorbed more from the Throne by now.” He glanced over at Zareus, who watched in silence. “Is there a reason you’re not concerned about this?”

  “A Grimoire loses their partial immortality after using up most of their élan, but that alone won’t ever kill one,” Zareus explained. “Being deprived of élan does, however, mirror the unpleasant symptoms of blood loss: quickened heartbeat, chills, fatigue, dizziness, nausea.”

  “I’m… definitely feeling all of those.”

  Sethra frowned. “So he’ll be fine?”

  “He might black out again,” Zareus answered with a simple shrug, “but even mortal spirits produce a little élan on their own. Roun will probably feel better after some rest.” Then, to Roun, “Can you sit up?”

  Roun groaned and tried. The room seemed to spin, but he managed to hand the device back without throwing up his meal.

  Zareus glanced at the four of them. “This cantrip is mostly used for refueling élanic devices at night or whenever you don’t have spare obsidian orbs or a view of the Throne. With practice you can even maintain it without thought.”

  “Not sure I want to be giving anything élan right now,” Roun muttered.

  Zareus raised an eyebrow. “The next cantrip, Farsight, should barely cost you anything. Close your eyes and focus outward as if probing for light based on its warmth more than its glow.”

  Roun frowned, hesitant, but when Zareus waved him on, he sighed and closed his eyes along with the others. He did what he was told and reached out through the darkness made by his eyelids. The arte again took shape in his mind and was helped along by instinctive understanding, and after gathering into a focal point within his chest, it pulsed outward.

  The world brightened almost immediately, or, rather, spheres of light flared to existence within the darkness. He sensed those nearest to him as bright, burning spheres of gold tinged with red and knew that they were noble spirits full of potential. Though they looked the same, each somehow had a unique feeling to them, and if he focused, he swore he could match each spirit to Sethra, Kamil, Laeshiro, and Oyrivia.

  Another orb burned off to the side, this time a more humble, whiter gold with less brightness, but he still easily identified it as a spirit. Roun could even sense the élanic lamps in the room as dull, cold orbs that barely registered to his sixth sense. This is unbelievable.

  Maintaining the cantrip wasn’t simple, though, because it demanded immense concentration and fed him too much information to comprehend everything within its reach at once; Roun had to narrow his focus down to a particular point of interest, and all while being a little blinded, deaf
, and numb, with each becoming worse the further away he sent his focus. He still also couldn’t ‘see’ or ‘hear’ through walls or anything else, but that was fine; the cantrip did what its name implied, even if it was only spiritually.

  What proved to be easy to sense, on the other hand, was the Eldest Throne. He didn’t even have to align towards it to know where it was, because its presence was like a physical pillar lancing through his mind. Roun was even able to tell how much longer it would burn before slumbering.

  Something thudded against his face. Roun’s eyes snapped open to find Sethra making a face as she wiped the sleeve of her outer robes against her chest.

  “Your head isn’t emptying too, is it?” she asked.

  “No,” he carefully said. Was I… drooling? “At least, I hope not.”

  “Well, I don’t think anyone else saw. You looked hilarious, by the way.”

  Kamil and Laeshiro were listening in with confusion, their eyes now opened. “What looked hilarious?” Laeshiro asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sethra answered. The other two thankfully left it at that.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Roun noticed that Zareus, who had moved to speak with Oyrivia, was watching him. The scribe shifted his attention back to the other Grimoire a heartbeat later, but Roun was positive Zareus had seen him drooling. What does it matter? It was just a little drool. Embarrassing, but that’s all.

  Zareus left Oyrivia’s side a moment later and turned to address them as a group. “Farsight’s usefulness depends on your own personal skill and experience with it, much like an instrument.” He thudded the bottom of his scalpel against a forearm. “It’s an arte all Grimoires use often, so practice with it every day.”

  They spent a few hours practicing with Farsight, during which Kamil, Sethra, and Laeshiro joined him in testing the limits of the cantrip and discovered that there was a great degree of flexibility to it.

  Roun was able to tackle concealment after some trial and error and found he could prevent the others from sensing him across the room by holding the cantrip close and blinding himself in return. When they drew near, however, they were able to sense him again even though he himself was still blind.

  They still eagerly asked him to teach them how to do it. Afterward, they took turns practicing and tweaking the technique.

  Roun enjoyed Farsight a great deal more than Imbue. Mostly because Farsight didn’t leave him feeling like a withered husk, but also because it allowed Sethra and him to spend some time with the other two Grimoires; Kamil was a little reserved, but good-natured enough, while Laeshiro was all laughs and overwhelming passion.

  Zareus eventually took to the podium and once again called the group back to attention. “The third and final cantrip is Abjure, which is used to either unmake or modify the script of an élanic device. Like Farsight, Abjure is an arte with many uses and a long path to mastery. With enough skill, an élanic lock capable of thwarting even the most determined thief becomes nothing to you. In fact, you could even outright destroy or repurpose élanic devices given enough time. However, it’s also the most complex and potentially dangerous of the three cantrips, so you’re not to use it unsupervised until you’ve proved yourself proficient. That won’t be anytime soon because we’ll first be thoroughly studying Imperial Script, from its history to its use as both our written language and an invoker of élan. Your rooms should have a shelf filled with most of the tomes we’ll be using.”

  The others groaned, but Roun found himself intrigued.

  Zareus glanced down at him. “Do you know your glyphs?” the scribe asked.

  Roun knew he didn’t mean it as an insult, but his face still burned. “I do; my father taught me how to read.”

  Zareus nodded. “Then it would behoove you all to begin reading Kalas’s Radiant Historia tonight,” he warned. “You’re dismissed.”

  They all rose and made their way out of the chamber. Roun was following behind Sethra when Zareus reached out to grab his shoulder.

  Roun jumped, but all the scribe did was offer him a key with a cord looped through it. “We’ve assigned you a room in the dormitories. Have the others show you where it’s located; you share the same living space.”

  “Ah,” Roun replied sheepishly. “Thank you.”

  He ran to catch up with the other three and found Kamil shaking his head, but they didn’t say anything while descending.

  “Dinner?” Sethra asked.

  “You’re still hungry?” Laeshiro laughed. “Well, we can bring something back before diving into that tome.” He looked over at Roun. “I think our friend here might want to retire early.”

  He was about to protest, but then changed his mind when he realized how exhausted he was. “I would love to do just that, actually. The sooner, the better, so I’m all for an early dinner and some light studying while we eat.”

  “Fine, let’s go grab some food and head to Laeshiro’s room,” Sethra said.

  “What? Why my room?”

  Roun grinned and answered for her. “Where else would we go other than our future leader’s room?”

  “You’re both reading too deeply into what I said.” The towering man rolled his eyes. “You’ll understand once you see my awakening arte.”

  “Why can’t you show us now?” Roun asked.

  “The library doesn’t want us using our own artes without supervision,” Kamil explained. “Same concerns as with Abjure, I suppose; they’re afraid we’ll kill ourselves or someone else by mistake. I’m a bit of an exception because my parents taught me a good deal already, but my chaperone still gave me a slap on the wrist from time to time.”

  “Besides, showing off your arte to everyone is like a rite of passage!” Sethra added with enthusiasm.

  “Alright, I understand…” Roun sighed and raised his hands. “Let’s go get our food before I pass out again.”

  After a quick trip to the meal hall, they clustered together in Laeshiro’s room and set their plates down wherever there was free space. They read in silence for a while, then quizzed each other on the contents of Radiant Historia, which, as its name implied, discussed the history of Imperial Script and the more rarely used offshoots born from it.

  They were all already snoring by the time the Eldest Throne itself fell to slumber, Kalas’s Radiant Historia left strewn across their chests and faces.

  7

  Roun sat cross-legged at the tower’s summit, eyes closed. Sethra sat to his left and Kamil to his right, but the others were close; the six of them had formed a circle, their backs facing inward. Roun sensed Yhul and Zareus waiting nearby with Farsight. Further beyond them, the Eldest Throne stirred like some great yawning beast.

  He could tell the exact moment it ignited.

  “Clear your mind and wait for the ripples made by your thoughts to settle,” Zareus instructed. “Listen to the rhythm of your breath and heart, then go deeper and seek your spirit in the silence between them. Heed your instincts and take your time; this is a moment for you and you alone.”

  Dawnlight washed over them. Roun felt élan pass through the viscous substance of his vessel, its presence warm and exhilarating rather than soothing. He tried to drink from the flood of rich sacred energy… and watched as it leaked away.

  Apprehension filled the void instead. Roun frowned and with a jolt of frustration wondered what he could have done to deserve such a dark stroke of Fate.

  He had woken as exhausted as the night before, and his muscles and bones still ached. In fact, he felt worse than he ever had as a mortal. The spirits of his fellow Grimoires, on the other hand, radiated intense heat and looked engorged. A liquid brightness now also cycled through their bodies in curving, symmetrical lines. It was fascinating, but it also made him think of himself as something flawed.

  Am I supposed to see the same thing inside myself? His frown deepened as he considered the question. Farsight revealed both dull artificial lights and the burning spirits of the living. And the Throne, of course. It was
almost impossible not to sense the Throne.

  But I can’t see my spirit. Roun tried looking inside again, reentered the liquid vessel that was supposed to be its home, and found nothing, just like before.

  He sat there observing élan pass through his vessel for the entire hour. The others rose invigorated at the end, and not only did their spirits now radiate a fresh, gentle light, but their skin also gave off an amber glow.

  Sethra was grinning until she turned to him. “Not feeling any better?”

  Roun shook his head. It occurred to him to ask what his spirit looked like to her Farsight, but decided to do so later, in private.

  Yhul and Zareus approached them from the guardrails.

  “Very good,” Zareus said. Neither of his hands held a scalpel, which Roun couldn’t help but notice. “Your journey requires an influx of élan at the moment, but as you continue to grow, so too will the complexity of your spirit’s appetites, leaving your path increasingly personal. My advice is to sit down at some point and think about the kind of Grimoire you would like to become.”

  Roun frowned. The kind of Grimoire I would like to become?

  “Think about it some other time,” Yhul bellowed as he stepped forward. “Your mornings will be mine from now on, and I will give you plenty enough to consider. Today we’ll begin with a little sweat before dividing into your pairs for sparring.”

  Roun sighed and followed a far too cheerful Sethra. They spent a few hours sprinting nonstop; far longer than he—or any mortal, honestly—would have been able to endure before. Roun kept from falling out of sync with the others as they dashed from one side of the summit to the other, but was miserable throughout it all. Afterward, Sethra and Roun returned to sampling weapons against each other while trying not to think about their rotations with Yhul.