Awakening Arte (The Eldest Throne Book 1) Page 7

  “Well, pleased to meet you, Help! I’m Librarian Exarch Kuro—from Avyleir Library, of course.”

  “…Oh.”

  “My reputation precedes me, I see!” Kuro nodded. “Yes, it’s all true; I oversee the illustrious Blue Moon Tower and its host of Grimoires. They do all the hard work, so the least I can do is proudly boast of their accomplishments throughout the demesne!”

  “Mooooon?” Help asked.

  “Yes, from the myths. You know, ‘the warden that waits.’ I’m quite fond of all the poetry and tales, conflicting though they may be. Have you read any perchance?”

  “Read… Do… human things. All day, like human.”

  “Quite so! We humans do indeed love doing human—”

  Kuro glanced up to find a chimera diving from the clouds.

  The chimera looked like a bearded vulture, with its distinctive narrow wings, wide tail, and the tuft beneath its beak that gave it its name. The entire creature was a dark gray save for its beak and beard, both of which were black as night. That bit of dark coloring continued up to streak across its eyes before tapering to an end, making for a lovely contrast with the rest of its body and the bright yellow of its eyes.

  It was possible the chimera had been a bearded vulture once, but now the outlines of its feathers rippled with fluid movement. This, alongside its enormous size—its talons were almost as large as a man—and additions such as the fleshy bits that were fluttering like paper streamers from its legs, wings, and neck, made it difficult to mistake as anything but a chimera.

  “And there’s the shrieking sceptre,” Kuro muttered. He snatched his closed parasol with one hand and rose while still holding the tea bowl in the other. Knowing something that monstrous slipped by our patrols shames me to the bone.

  The chimera slammed down upon the roof of the magister’s manse. Wood groaned and shingles tumbled down as the creature settled on its perch and cocked its head to align an amber eye down at him. The shrieking sceptre also spread its wings wide enough that they should have cast a good portion of the village in gloom, but chimeras didn’t cast shadows—at least, not until they wanted to.

  The chimera then predictably shrieked.

  Kuro sipped his tea as one of the most dangerous chimera variants known to the Imperial Libraries assaulted his spirit. The horrid noise was an arte armed with the essence of compulsion; it burrowed into him like a thousand wiggling worms, seeking to rewire his mind so that he would worship the creature. The chimera had seemingly already taken over all of Koal because he heard the hidden villagers echoing and empowering the arte from within their homes. Even the magister was now shrieking, her head tossed back.

  Kuro braced against the onslaught, confident that his routine of sublime medicines and training as an exarch would be enough to spare him the need to do more. Besides, the chimera remained wary—normally it’d pin him beneath its talons and practically tongue his ear, feisty little thing that it was.

  Oh well. Kuro sipped his tea. This should be close enough for them.

  He stood waiting while two shimmering chains with weights at their ends snapped up and wrapped around the shrieking sceptre’s leg and slender neck, then its shriek transformed into one of surprise as the chains dragged it down into the village square on the other side of the manse.

  Kuro stepped by the now-silent magister and retraced his steps through the manse until he again passed through its tall entranceway. The chimera was beating its wings, its talons tearing up grass and tiles and snapping nearby trees.

  Dannul Hisha, the Orihalcon-ranked Grimoire of Dawnfire, grinned beside it, his muscular arms trembling as he held his kusarigama taut. Arietta Hisha, the woman who was both his wife and his Mage, stood across from him like a perfect reflection.

  “‘Just some boring bodyguard duty!’” Dannul cried. “A small break from the usual,’ he said!”

  “This makes for a far more exciting date, beloved,” Arietta shot back.

  They both raised a hand and the sky filled with so many liquid orbs that Kuro felt as if a second dawn had come. The orbs then smashed down onto the chimera before bursting apart into sprays of liquid fire. It didn’t take long before the chimera appeared to be bathing in lava, but they didn’t stop, and the supernatural fire soon grew so dense and full of élan that it burned a bluish white instead of the flame’s usual red and gold.

  The shrieking sceptre continued shrieking, though Kuro sensed quite a different tone to it now.

  “Don’t forget that there are still people in the village,” Kuro said. He sighed and took another sip of his tea. Ah, here comes the shadow-shedding.

  The chimera finally oozed an inky sludge that bled through the liquid fire coating it. The chimera righted itself a moment later and jerked its chained appendages with a surge of furious, empowered strength. Both Grimoire and Mage manipulated their élanic weapons to loosen and snapped them back into their hands as the ooze coating them sizzled away.

  The shrieking sceptre gushed out more of the stuff a heartbeat later though, dousing the flames with a hiss and leaving it looking like a proper horror; thick black liquid streamed from its feathers, eyes, and beak, and hunched monstrosities rose from wherever enough of it landed.

  Kuro clucked his tongue at the wraiths. They were smooth and lacked the details of living flesh, though each was still vaguely humanoid and about the size of a small child. Though eyeless, they still focused upon the couple with eerie accuracy. The creatures then opened maws filled with endless rows of fangs, raised their sharp claws, and charged.

  Orbs crashed down to create a wall of fire, halting the wave of wraiths, and—to Kuro’s mild surprise—the couple hurried through a game of paper, stone, knife. Dannul cried out in victory while his wife groaned, but he clutched her face with a grin and gave her a kiss.

  An inferno raged beyond the two, and beyond that, more and more wraiths clustered together while the shrieking sceptre readied to take flight.

  As Arietta kissed her husband back, a hand from each of them rose into the air. Their fingers entwined as they shared the cost and a halo of glyphs sparked around their wrists, signifying a name and the right to call upon it.

  A graceful parting of limbs shattered the halo and completed the arte; in response, their dragon familiar burst into existence from within a nebulous mass of élan above Kuro. The dragon was the color of early dawn, all shimmering violets, pinks, and reds like the scales woven into the couple’s raiments.

  The dragon intercepted the shrieking sceptre as it tried to launch towards the sky; they crashed back onto the ground, sending up plumes of dust and cracking the wall of a building that might still contain some of the village’s enslaved denizens.

  “Careful!” Kuro shouted, both hands raising.

  The dragon flung the chimera into the air with its maw and allowed it to gain altitude, but the shrieking sceptre didn’t seem very appreciative.

  “Try not to have too much fun without me,” Arietta muttered as they parted.

  Dannul laughed and turned as his dragon familiar whipped out its tail to grab him before taking off after the chimera. A bit of aerial showmanship left the Grimoire seated upon the dragon’s back, then they closed in on the chimera—which continued shedding a ridiculous number of wraiths.

  Kuro should have been a little concerned at least, but he was trying to avoid wrinkles, so instead he sipped his tea and watched Arietta work. As a mere Mage with borrowed powers, she was overall weaker than her husband. That often translated into a far more restrictive pool of élan, poorer control, and access to fewer artes as well as diminished manifestations of them.

  And yet, like always, she left Kuro wondering if her husband was truly the Grimoire.

  Arietta wielded their ability to control the battlefield the way a conductor guided an orchestra; tidy walls of flame soon appeared throughout the town, sparing the buildings and flora in a show of mastery that left even Kuro shocked.

  The village soon turned into a raging labyrint
h of fire, but when Arietta wielded her kusarigama, the labyrinth became a killing ground.

  She funneled the wraiths or cut them off to keep herself from being overwhelmed; never for a moment did she stop her dance, the élanic sickle in her hands cleaving through clump after clump of wraiths whenever she wasn’t using the chain to force others into the flame.

  Despite this, the horde of wraiths seemed endless. Dannul and his dragon battled the shrieking sceptre above, but it only shed more and more wraiths as they fought. These tumbled onto buildings or piled onto the roads before immediately heading for Arietta and him.

  Arietta glanced skyward and shook her head at Dannul before raising a free hand; another orb flared to life above her—and slowly grew larger and brighter.

  Kuro frowned, recognizing the advanced arte as False Star, one that could quickly drain even Dannul.

  Bits of stone and rubble rose into the air and drifted towards the ever-growing orb, then some of the wraiths spun skyward. Whatever touched the orb vanished into its molten surface with a very unpleasant hiss.

  Arietta changed her strategy, forgoing the maze of fire and instead shifting to sweeping strikes with her chain, tripping wraiths and leaving them to be sucked in by the still growing orb. As it grew, Kuro felt its attraction also become stronger—and knew that the concentration and élan required to sustain it increased in proportion.

  But the Mage fought as if it had no effect on her, conjuring smaller balls of liquid fire while glowing amber as she empowered her physical abilities to the extreme.

  The rest of the tea rose from Kuro’s bowl, then the bowl itself lifted out of his hand. A few heartbeats later, Kuro himself lightened and spun up into the air alongside them.

  “So my time has come at last,” he said melodramatically. “Worry not, sweet Arietta, for you’ll find the master librarian surprisingly lenient upon hearing you murdered me by mistake.”

  She grunted and spun, whipping out her chain before manipulating it with élan to wrap around his waist. She slammed him against the ground beside her and gestured with an arm.

  Most of the remaining wraiths had gathered around them by now, drawn both by Arietta and the pull of the arte. Her engorged False Star flared and burst, and a small ring of flames showered down around them; Kuro felt like he was in a volcano as he stood and dusted himself. It was beyond uncomfortable, but he knew that Arietta was redirecting the worst of it outward.

  When the blinding inferno at last died down, there were deep scorch marks on the ground. Only a few wraiths remained and these Arietta dispensed after wiping sweat from her brow.

  Kuro turned in time to catch Dannul diving from high above. His orbs were harrying the shrieking sceptre, but it was the dragon’s plume of dawn-colored flame that made the chimera flap its wings in panic. The dragon ceased spewing its breath, then completed its dive and tore at the chimera.

  The shrieking sceptre released one last cry before falling from the sky, streams of amber and black ichor trailing above it.

  Koal Village’s people snapped awake at that same moment, freed from their Fates as enslaved meals and a great cheer rose into the air. Their magister soon came running, but skidded to a halt when Dannul landed and dismissed his familiar into a vortex of élan.

  Kuro raised a hand to signal the magister to wait and rolled his eyes as the burly Grimoire lifted his wife and kissed her with unneeded ferocity.

  “You were as extraordinary as ever, my love!” Dannul cried.

  “I had to be, because someone was loafing around,” she responded. “Or maybe you’re just getting old, love. That must be it; you’re losing your spark.”

  “Losing my spark, she says! An off day is hardly proof of anything!”

  “Well, we’ve still only one child, despite your promise to give me more. If that’s not proof, then go on and explain where all your vigor has gone!”

  Dannul looked chagrined as the villagers gathered around them with understandably confused expressions. “My spirit is willing, but a man’s flesh has limits! Besides, we already have a wonderful son!”

  Arietta clucked her tongue and patted his arm when he set her back down. “You know I want a daughter too, and you can always rest while I carry our next child.”

  Oh no, Kuro thought as Dannul’s face radiated determination and the Grimoire tore off his sash and outer robes.

  “Very well!” Dannul shouted. “We’ll fill an entire tower with nothing but our children!”

  Arietta covered her mouth with a hand, but her eyes shamelessly mirrored those of her husband.

  “Dannul, Arietta!” Kuro cried as he rushed over and waved his parasol between them. “I would very much like it if the good people of Koal continued viewing you as pristine heroes, so do us all a favor and go sweep the countryside.” He waggled his parasol at them. “Save anything you don’t want me to know about until after you’re done.”

  The two set off while holding hands and laughing.

  I can only blame myself for how they turned out. Kuro shook his head at their backs, then faced the magister.

  She dropped and pressed her forehead against the dirt. The rest of the villagers followed suit. “Oh, Exarch Kuro, thank you, thank you so very—”

  “Enough of that.” He waved them back up. “We only do our duty.” One we undertake poorly, it seems, and yet here you are thanking us for it.

  He would need to make adjustments, but the puzzle of how seemed a daunting task, even at a glance. They had already stretched the Rozarian Guard thin dealing with brigand clans, Copper threat chimeras, and irksome knots of night while most of their Grimoires were being overworked by a gauntlet of catastrophes both minor and major.

  “Exarch?”

  Kuro stirred from his thoughts and smiled at the magister. “I’m afraid I’ve yet to complete my survey. Might we sit and have tea? The last bowl you served me was excellent.”

  She shuddered and shut her eyes against the memory, but gave him a slow nod. “Of course.”

  “Lead the way, then!” he said, snapping open his parasol and humming as they returned to the manse.

  9

  They spent the next few days practicing their awakening artes in a way Zareus likened to warming up long-unused muscles—or at least, everyone besides Roun did.

  He instead spent the time miserably practicing with Farsight, the one arte he could cast without blacking out. It was already something of a miracle that he had enough élan to heal from more serious wounds or enhance himself, but he could tell that his body was taking sips instead of gulps from a pool that still diminished all too quickly. Worst of all was the undeniable confirmation that his vessel wasn’t absorbing the Throne’s light, no matter how much he rested.

  Today was no different. After an hour of toying with his cantrip, Roun once again asked to be excused from their afternoon session, which Zareus allowed with a wave of his hand. It took a bit of soothing to reassure Sethra that he was doing fine and that she should remain behind and practice. Laeshiro and Kamil gave him concerned looks, but he didn’t look back as he made his way to his room in the dormitories.

  They were the only training rotation within the Blue Moon Tower at the moment, so the hallways were empty; all the senior Grimoires either had enough rank to request their own home or were stationed elsewhere in the Rozarian Demesne.

  Roun didn’t bother deactivating his lamp’s preservation script and allowed the room’s sole window to continue banishing the darkness as he threw himself into his desk chair. Unfortunately, the light failed to reach his gloomy mood. Or stay in my spiritual vessel, he added with a pang of bitterness.

  Roun wondered if there would be any permanent harm from that. After all, Grimoires didn’t become truly immortal until they returned to the Empress and partial immortality came with caveats. His throbbing muscles, bruises, and scrapes were proof enough of that.

  Resting seemed to restore a small amount of élan and made him feel a little better, but it still didn’t take much befo
re the exhaustion returned.

  I wanted to become a Grimoire so I could be proud of myself, but right now I’m pathetic and useless… which isn’t that different from how I felt before my awakening. That dark stroke of Fate definitely seemed a little unfair.

  Roun leaned back, tilting the chair, and stared up at the ceiling with a frown. Means I still have nothing to lose. It was the same thought that had encouraged him to explore every option available to him. He had also researched other peculiar Grimoires and had spoken to more than a few of the librarians that dwelled within Avyleir Library’s offices, workshops, and tome repositories.

  Most had been intrigued, but none could provide answers other than the same vague one Zareus had given him; his arte either had less obvious requirements or something was holding him back.

  Those words had proved true with every other unusual Grimoire, but they had all still held to the same basic principles: a transcendent spirit they could cultivate at dawn and a pool of élan that was replenished by the Throne’s light.

  Roun, however, hadn’t left without some leads. For instance, he had learned that artes often also imparted new instincts or a kind of affinity, so the librarians had advised him to follow his gut feelings.

  There was also a whole gamut of tests for those like him, so he had ended up with a long list of what his arte likely wasn’t.

  It all helped Roun lash together guesses about where to head next. Few of his ideas would be easy or safe to explore, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

  He organized his thoughts as he stood and spent some time rehearsing his arguments out loud while pacing around his room. He didn’t sound as suicidal as he feared, or at least he didn’t think he did. After deciding it’d have to do, Roun made his way back down the dormitories.

  Roun knew he’d have to wait a while to speak with Zareus, so he detoured to the field behind the central tower; the others were still there practicing their artes. Sethra waved at him from atop what was basically a small keep, then she glanced down in panic when Kamil, who was standing in front of the structure and eying it with the same thoughtful intensity he regarded his beloved puzzle-devices, sent orbs crashing against it.