Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  Annelise placed a crystal glass of youngling ale before Augum as her brother took away the bowl of water. She kept standing there in profound paleness, staring at him with awe. She had large ears that made the rest of her mousey face look even smaller.

  “Oh, thank you,” Augum said, feeling uncomfortable with the staring.

  Her milky cheeks reddened as her eyes fell to the polished floor. She quickly curtsied. “My lord,” before scurrying away.

  Gabe offered the bowl to Leera. “My lady, some water to wash your soft hands with.”

  “If I have to,” Leera muttered.

  Augum flashed Gabe a hard look, but the boy did not see it.

  “I am sure there are many who would rather see their money go to a worthwhile cause,” Constable Clouds announced as the table quieted to listen in. “They speak in whispers and tread on feathers for fear of having their fortunes confiscated and their daughters thrown into service.”

  “Or their sons turned into soldiers,” Mr. Okeke added.

  “This kingdom runs on gold,” Mr. Haroun said. “As warlike as despots get, it has, does, and will continue to always run on gold.” His eyes found Augum’s. “Your father knows this, that is why he took Tiberra. It takes a great deal of money to run an army, even one aided by necromancy.”

  He took a small sip of wine. “We must all fight Lord Sparkstone in our own way, but united. Not everyone is a powerful archmage like your famous great-grandmother, Augum. Most, as you well know, are Ordinaries lacking the arcane talents. In fact, in this entire village, I do believe there are nine rings, and they are divided between the three of you.”

  “Ten rings,” Haylee blurted, raising an arm and allowing a band of ice to flash to life around it.

  Charissa made a Well isn’t she special face at Malaika.

  “They are only fifteen years old, Hanad,” Mrs. Haroun said from the other end of the table. “What can fifteen-year-olds do in the face of such a monstrous army?”

  Leera opened her mouth to speak, probably to say she and Bridget were not yet fifteen even, when she was silenced by an elbow jab from Bridget.

  “Dear me, I too doubted their abilities once,” Mr. Goss said with a sheepish smile. He accepted the bowl of water from Gabe with a grateful nod. “Let me tell those who are assembled today, that I have found nothing but courage in these young persons’ hearts.” He dried his hands while Gabe took the bowl. “But it is their friendship that has taught me true strength. They will speak of neither, but I can assure you, they have endured and accomplished a great deal.”

  He made sure everyone was paying attention as his gaze swept the table. “A great deal. The things they have survived are as harrowing as you can imagine. As to the things they have accomplished … well, let us say we stand a chance now. There is reason to hope.” Mr. Goss stared at Leera, then Bridget, and finally Augum. “I have nothing but faith in them.”

  Augum felt his cheeks burn, acutely conscious of everyone staring at him and the girls.

  “They might look fifteen,” Mr. Goss added, eyeing the trio with a kind of fatherly pride, “but they have witnessed things and done things that have aged their souls. In my eyes, they are brave young warriors.”

  “Well, almost fifteen,” Leera muttered. “And as far as aging, just wait till we learn Cron—” but Bridget gave her another elbow.

  Leland slammed his hand onto the table, clattering the dishes. He let out a long series of angry moans.

  Malaika startled. “How barbaric,” she whispered to her friend, both girls clutching their chests.

  “I am sorry, but what did the young unfortunate child say?” A portly woman with curly gray hair politely asked.

  Everyone’s eyes fell upon Mr. Goss.

  “In essence, my son said that many of the trio’s friends died, but no matter what the Legion threw at them, they are the ones who lived.”

  For a moment, the table was silent as everyone stared at mangled young Leland.

  “How can his father understand him?” Charissa whispered to Malaika.

  “My father did that to him,” Augum blurted to the gathering. “His lightning melted his face and body like that. He lost his sight and his speech and he’s constantly in pain.” Under the table, Leera’s fingers curled with his. She squeezed. It gave him strength.

  “My father won’t hesitate to do it to any of us,” he continued, “even me. He’s burned down two villages before my own eyes. I still hear those people screaming. I still see their feet kicking.” He glanced around at the ironwork candelabras, the porcelain plates, and the stained glass windows. He only saw flames. “I know what he’s capable of, and I know what his followers are capable of. What I don’t know is … how to stop him.”

  Malaika clutched at her chest as she shared a fawning look with Charissa.

  After a marked silence, Devon, sitting beside his father, leaned forward. “What about that Agonex thingy, Augum?”

  “We don’t know how to use it yet.”

  Leland made a series of quick moans while drawing a circle with his hand.

  “What did the boy say, Mr. Goss?” Constable Clouds asked.

  Mr. Goss hesitated. “My son thinks it could be a lot of, err … fun.”

  “They treat ancient artifacts like toys,” Ms. Singh sang to the ceiling. “May the gods help these lost sheep, for they obviously lack the most basic competence. What sort of ill-advised resistance is this?” She turned to her daughter in search of the answer to that question before remembering Priya had stormed out with Jengo. She promptly sat up straighter, tersely clearing her throat.

  “Did Mrs. Stone have a plan?” Mr. Haroun asked, ignoring Ms. Singh.

  “My great-grandmother wanted Bridget, Leera and I to go the library in Antioc dressed as necrophytes, so that we could try to figure out how the Agonex works.”

  “Anna Atticus Stone charged you with such a quest?” Mrs. Haroun asked from the other end. “Preposterous.”

  “For once Panjita agrees with the fat hen,” Ms. Singh said.

  Mrs. Haroun looked Ms. Singh up and down. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner in my own house—”

  Mr. Haroun raised a hand. “Selma, please.” His wife curled her lip but held her tongue. Mr. Haroun turned back to Augum. “If I may, can you tell us more about this army? How large is it?”

  “It’s Occulus’ army,” Leera said, turning her bread around and around on her plate, “and it’s under Bahbell. Been there the entire time. Thing is, we couldn’t exactly count how large it is because we were kind of running for our lives at the time.”

  “We estimate tens of thousands,” Bridget added. “And the army is still equipped with Dreadnought weapons and armor.”

  Mutterings circled the table.

  “That’s not all,” Augum said. “The entire army is undead.”

  The table immediately broke out into argumentative chatter. Ms. Singh pointed at the ceiling with one hand while gesticulating accusingly at the assembled throng with the other. Mrs. Haroun shook her head and loudly complained about the devilry of it all. Mr. Goss and Mr. Okeke exchanged quiet and quick words on what to do next. Mr. Haroun and Constable Clouds sat back with a sigh. Malaika stared intently at Augum.

  “I thought Bahbell was a myth,” Charissa said.

  “I am afraid, young lady,” Constable Clouds replied, adjusting his great girth in his chair so he may see her, “that it is quite real. The Legion revealed its existence to the public in yesterday’s Blackhaven Herald. I confess, however, that I have known of its existence through my superiors for some time now.”

  “We are fortunate to have you on our side, Constable,” Mr. Haroun said. “You are an invaluable asset to the Resistance.”

  Resistance indeed, Augum thought morosely. It made him nervous. One word of it to the Legion—one loose, gossipy word from anyone in the entire town—and the place burns.

  “Where is this legendary Mrs. Stone?” Charissa pressed. “Why can’t she just kill Lord
Sparkstone?”

  “She already tried,” Augum replied.

  “The Battle at Hangman’s Rock,” Bridget added.

  “And because he’s got six scions and she only one,” Leera said, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Because he’s got Dreadnoughts on his side making weapons and armor day and night. Because he’s got an army and she doesn’t. Because he’s in charge of an entire kingdom and she isn’t. Because he’s a necromancer. Because, because, because.” Her lip curled at Charissa and Malaika. “Not to mention he’s got warlocks who track her day and night with some witch artifact, so she’s always on the move. And somehow she’s supposed to train us at the same time. It’s not easy—”

  “—enough, Lee,” Bridget said, placing a gentle hand on her arm. She sighed and turned back to the table. “Thing is, we haven’t heard from Mrs. Stone in days.”

  Mr. Haroun’s face was grave. “So you are saying it could very well be just us.”

  Bridget hesitated, but surrendered a slight nod, enough to cast a pall over the table.

  Constable Clouds accepted a glass of wine from Clayborne. “Anna Atticus Stone is a symbol of resistance to many out there. An important symbol.” His eyes travelled the room, landing on the trio. “As are these three young people before us. Anna Stone has entrusted them with a quest. We must do everything we can to carry out her wishes.”

  Many at the table nodded.

  “But without arcane support,” Mr. Haroun countered, “it would be difficult for them to access the ancient library.”

  “Father can help,” Devon said. “Can’t you, Father?”

  Clouds idly rubbed his triple chins. “What about sending them by horse with one of my men acting as their guide? For disguise, I may be able to acquire necrophyte robes through a formal requisition. Of course, a believable story would have to be contrived for the trip—though I imagine three necrophytes visiting the ancient library would not raise much concern.” He raised his head. “It will all take time to organize, but it can be done.”

  Devon raised his palms dramatically. “Wait, the Herald said there’s a warlock tournament!”

  Haylee gave a brief nod. “The Antioc Classic.” She noticed some blank faces. “It’s a yearly warlock tournament, one I would have liked to participate in. As it is …” She glanced disdainfully at her cane.

  “An ideal time to blend in then,” Constable Clouds said.

  Mr. Goss cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but, would the journey not be easier with the help of a high-degree warlock?”

  “All warlocks who have not fled have been forced to serve the Legion,” Clouds replied. “However, I am sure a small handful would risk everything to secretly help the Resistance. In fact, some time ago a colleague stationed in Antioc told me about just such a warlock, a woman by the name of Miralda Jenkins—”

  The trio exchanged a sudden look.

  “Constable,” Bridget began in somber tones, “Ms. Jenkins died helping us at the Battle at Hangman’s Rock.”

  Clouds slowly exhaled. “I see.”

  Clayborne brought two plates out, his children in tow with more. He placed one before Mr. Haroun and the other before Augum, who stared dumbfounded at a single armored oval shell.

  Leera leaned over, whispering, “What the hell is that?”

  Augum, half expecting the object to sprout legs and scuttle away, was wondering the same thing.

  Malaika giggled. “That’s an oyster, Augum. They’re really quite divine.”

  “We consider it an honor to shuck one’s own oyster,” Charissa threw in, picking hers up.

  “Indeed,” Malaika added. “It’s just a shame we get so few. Keeping them cold and fresh is a tremendous challenge. Mother even had to pay for arcane delivery.”

  “Arcane delivery?” Augum asked. “How does that work?”

  Malaika flushed from his gaze. “Oh, but you’re a warlock, Augum, how do you not know this?” When he gave no response, she quickly continued. “All right, so you send a letter to an arcane delivery service and a warlock shows up. You tell him what you want, pay him, and he delivers your letter or fetches something for you. That kind of thing. Mind you it’s very expensive, really only for the well-off. Of course, couriers are very difficult to acquire these days. Mother had to pay a fortune for the one that delivered these oysters.”

  “You mean bribe,” Leera muttered under her breath.

  Charissa leaned near Malaika. “I don’t think they know anything about deliveries, they’re all too poor.”

  Leera cocked her head and raised a finger. Charissa’s oyster began moving toward her. The girl immediately recoiled with a squeal, nearly falling out of her chair.

  “Young lady,” Mr. Haroun said with the faintest smile, “please, no arcanery at the table.”

  “Sorry,” Leera muttered.

  “Well I never,” Charissa said to Malaika, hand clutching her chest. “What an awful thing to do. She’s utterly uncivilized.”

  “Really doesn’t deserve him,” Malaika said.

  Leera’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What did you just say?”

  “Ladies, please,” Mr. Haroun said. “Daughter, mind your tongue, you forget yourself.”

  Malaika dropped her gaze. “Father.”

  “Wait, about that arcane delivery service,” Augum cut in, not wanting to let the matter go. “How large can the object be?”

  “As large as you like,” Malaika replied.

  “That might work,” Bridget suddenly said, catching Leera’s hand before she could cast any more arcanery.

  Malaika raised her brows. “What might work?”

  Bridget was staring at Augum. “It’ll have to be a sealed crate of some kind.”

  “A large donation to the library, perhaps,” Mr. Haroun said with a smile.

  “Donation? What are you going on about, Father? Has everyone lost their minds?”

  Haylee suddenly sat up straighter. “It should ideally be something the Legion confiscates.”

  “Something heavy,” Devon threw in, grinning excitedly, “like books!”

  “Yes, of course!” Constable Clouds said, catching wind of their conversation. “I can even arrange for it to be shipped officially by the Legion, ensuring there will be no tampering of the box.”

  “Will someone please explain to me what is going on?” Mrs. Haroun asked from across the table.

  Mr. Haroun leaned forward. “Selma, my dear, we are going to arcanely deliver our heroic trio in a box.”

  Ebb and Flow

  Augum finally got around to trying the oyster, something he found revolting but pretended to like. Leera, on the other hand, promptly declared it “armored snot,” and shoved it away, drawing condemning whispers from Malaika and Charissa. Haylee grudgingly taught Chaska how to properly eat his, though he showed nothing but discomfort with the many protocols required in fine dining. Ms. Singh flung her oyster at the elder servant, declaring it too oval. Before the entire household came down on her for throwing yet another dish, Mr. Okeke diplomatically offered to take her home, which she—much to everyone’s surprise and relief—accepted. She tottered out with him, grumbling all the while about poor food and worse service.

  As the second round was served (brace of quail, spiced leek broth, and some kind of roasted small fish), the table was alight with ideas on just how to accomplish the task of mailing the trio using a Legion warlock courier. Everyone eagerly offered an opinion on the daring plot, though not all were supportive—Mrs. Haroun, sitting regally at the far end, repeatedly stated how foolish she thought such an endeavor was to anyone who would listen.

  “Where do you think we can find a map?” Augum asked Leera amongst the gaggle of conversation.

  Leera, who had her arms crossed and was glaring at Malaika, shrugged.

  “Maybe I can be of service.” Malaika, ignoring Leera, snapped her fingers. “Annelise, fetch my book on the kingdoms. You know the one.”

  Annelise curtsied. “My lady.” She disappea
red, soon returning burdened with a large leather-bound tome.

  Malaika took it from her and opened it, receiving help with the oversized pages from Charissa. “There it is.” She removed a folded parchment and handed it to Annelise. “Deliver this to Augum Stone.” Malaika gave him a fawning smile.

  Annelise placed the parchment on a silver tray, tromped around the table, and extended the tray to Augum with downcast eyes. “My lord. From Miss Haroun.”

  Leera snatched the parchment from the tray, promptly unfolding it.

  “How rude,” Charissa said to Malaika, but Malaika merely held her head high, a slight smile curving her lips.

  Leera grimaced, as if hoping she would have found something other than what was there. “It’s a map,” she said, handing it to Augum.

  “A map, who would have dared to think,” Malaika sang to Charissa. She then gave Annelise a sharp look and the girl promptly curtsied and walked off, taking the book with her.

  “Uh, thank you, Annelise,” Augum said, flattening the parchment on the table. The girls were playing mind games, that much he could tell. He hated mind games. He pored over the map of Sithesia, which depicted Solia and the surrounding kingdoms.

  Malaika gently bit her lip. “What are you looking for, Augum?”

  “Velmara,” he replied absently.

  “Is that some kind of lake, Mal?” Charissa whispered to Malaika.

  “It is a town in south western Tiberra,” Mr. Haroun said. “But what is the significance of it, Augum?”

  Augum soon found it on the map. “That’s where Nana lost the pearl, Mr. Haroun, which she uses to communicate with us.”

  Bridget leaned over to glance at it. “Why would she lose it there?”

  “Velmara is a strategic location,” Constable Clouds said. “It is situated at the meeting of three rivers, allowing for the easy movement of troops. The Legion uses it as an eastern base camp. Perhaps she was watching them, gathering information.”

  “Could be an undead spawning ground,” Haylee said. The table fell silent.

  “And how would you know this?” Malaika asked.

  Haylee raised an eyebrow. “Because I was once a necrophyte—”