Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  Mr. Okeke had a steaming hot washbasin ready for them when they arrived, insisting they slept there in his cabin, not in the lonely woods. Augum was relieved, finding the Okeke home far more comfortable. The trio washed up and changed into their night linens. Mr. Okeke collected their mud-splattered robes and departed to have them washed. Augum took some time listening in to the Orb of Orion, but heard nothing but crickets and distant hushed voices around a fire. It was evident the controlling pearl had not moved from the last time he had listened in. Nonetheless, he found something comforting about the sound of those crickets.

  “All right, Father’s gone. Lie on your stomach and let me try this,” Jengo said.

  Augum did as he asked. “My life is in your hands.”

  Jengo spoke as he carefully washed his hands in a basin. “Trust me, I’ve been studying this in your yellow book until I can recite it in my sleep—and that’s all aspects of the spell. I’ve also been referencing the blue arcaneology book often.” He carefully unwrapped the bandage then pressed two hands on the wound, muttering, “Seems the majority of the puncture damage was made to the left of the central vertebral.” Augum winced from the stinging but let him work. “With some fluid buildup to the upper lumbar region at the base of the cut. Most likely a minor edema.”

  “What language is that?” Leera asked, sitting near and squeezing Augum’s hand in support.

  “Just healing jargon.” Jengo removed his hands a moment to inspect the wound further. “Whatever sliced you was quite unclean. Normally you’d expect a high probability of sepsis. Lucky you have me.”

  “Certainly sounds like you know what you’re doing,” Augum said, hoping it wasn’t gibberish he was hearing.

  “With this I do. The healing element requires a profound knowledge and understanding of the internal workings and humors of the body. Now lie still.” Jengo replaced his hands on the wound and began a rather complex but short incantation. After some initial pain, there was a glow and a comfortable sensation, as if Augum was taking a warm bath. The pain dissipated with the glow.

  “That looked just like Mrs. Stone would cast healing,” Bridget said, sitting cross-legged by the fire. “I’m impressed. What degree was that spell?”

  “Uh, it’s probably a little higher than I should be working at, but—”

  “Jengo, are you already casting beyond your degree?”

  “Wait, he doesn’t even have his 1st degree yet!” Leera threw in.

  Jengo swallowed as he wrung his hands. “Uh …”

  Augum sat up, stretching his back but feeling no pain other than a dull soreness. He extended his hand to Jengo with a smile. “Thank you so much, I think it worked.”

  Jengo shook it. “It did? I mean, of course it did!” He pressed a hand to his head. “But now my head is splitting. I haven’t just afflicted myself with some kind of incurable arcane sickness, have I?”

  “That’s normal. It’ll go away with practice.”

  “And practice is something I’m sure I’ll have lots of seeing how often you three get injured. Oh, and before I forget—” Jengo retrieved their rucksack, hidden under some pillows, and reached inside. “The Agonex.”

  Augum took the cold bronze disk. He traced the raised skulls with his fingers. It was hard to believe this mythic artifact controlled an entire army of Dreadnought-equipped undead soldiers. The only question now was—how?

  Leera laid her head in Augum’s lap as he handed the Agonex over to Bridget to inspect.

  Bridget traced her delicate fingers along the fine arcane metalwork. “Occulus once held this very same artifact. It’s odd holding a piece of history. And who knows how old it really is …”

  Augum nodded at the Orb of Orion. “We have two pieces of history.”

  “We’ve been so focused on figuring out how this thing works,” Bridget continued, “but what we haven’t done, is talk about what we’re going to do if we do figure it out.”

  Jengo stirred the fire. “Attack the Lord of the Legion, of course.”

  “She means,” Augum explained, “do we attack his armies in the field, or send the horde after him directly?”

  Bridget placed the disk before her. “We don’t even know how to get the army out of there.”

  “You can’t just … march it out?” Jengo asked.

  Augum rested a hand on Leera’s hair. “There was no way out, at least none that we saw. Occulus used to teleport the entire army right into the heart of a city.”

  “That’s what made him so devastating,” Bridget said. “That, and his necromantic powers of course.”

  Jengo sat back on his hands. “Ah, now I see why the Lord of the Legion wants it so badly.”

  Conversation petered out, replaced by yawns. Before long, Leera was asleep in Augum’s lap. Back newly healed, he was finally able to gently pick her up and carry her to her bed.

  A New Day

  The next morning, Bridget, already dressed in a freshly-washed blue robe and face edged with determination, shook Augum and Leera awake, declaring they had a very busy day ahead. Augum and Leera got dressed and the trio helped Jengo make breakfast. Mr. Goss and Leland soon showed up, with Leland immediately grabbing the Agonex and the Orb of Orion, placing his ear to the latter.

  Mr. Goss shook his head. “Goodness me, he was at that for hours the other day.”

  Augum gently tussled what remained of Leland’s hair. “He’s trying to help the Resistance like a true rebel.”

  Leland pointed at the two artifacts and moaned a few times.

  “Sure you can,” Bridget replied, “but they can’t leave our sight. Mr. Goss, can Leland come with us while we train? We promise to take good care of him.”

  “Perhaps that would be best indeed, seeing as I am going to work on the crate with Mr. Haroun this morning.”

  “The crate?” Jengo asked absently while stirring oatmeal into a pot of boiling water.

  “The one Augum, Bridget and Leera are going to use to get to Antioc.”

  “Ah, the deathtrap.”

  “Jengo—!” Mr. Okeke stepped out of his room, smoothing a burgundy doublet fringed with gold.

  “Jesting, Father.”

  “Regardless, we do not want to cast any ill-omens on Augum, Bridget and Leera, do we, Son?”

  “Of course not, Father.”

  “A trusted courier brought today’s Blackhaven Herald,” Mr. Goss said with a secretive smile. “Care to see it?” He laid out the densely-scrawled single parchment on the trestle dining table. The trio immediately huddled around.

  Leera snorted. “Look at that, there’s something about Erika. ‘The Herald has received word that Ms. Erika Scarson has been placed in charge of the heroic tracking party tasked with finding the villainous Anna Atticus Stone and her mongrel grovelers.’ ”

  She glanced up. “ ‘Mongrel grovelers’? Really?” She shook her head. “And that crazy loon. I’d love to see her try to face Mrs. Stone.” Leera straightened the parchment with a jerk. “ ‘Ms. Scarson declares her leadership will bring a “badly needed breath of fresh air” to the search. It is well known that the tracking party has been having a hard time catching up to the slippery insurgent leader. Sightings of Anna Atticus Stone have come from all over Sithesia, though she has returned to Solia often to cause trouble. Although there have been some recent close encounters—’ They must mean Velmara—” Leera interjected, quickly reading on, “ ‘the wanted crone has managed to escape every time. Sources close to the regime say she is researching a new and powerful spell, though the Herald is unable to confirm the assertion officially.’ ”

  “At least it means they haven’t found Nana yet,” Augum said, suddenly feeling lighter. He playfully elbowed his way into reading where Leera left off. “ ‘The Lord of the Legion’s own son has been taken under her spell, for he has destroyed a precious recipe on behalf of the old crone He has also stolen the Agonex, a powerful artifact belonging to the Legion. The boy is feared to be quickly corruptible and weak of heart, somet
hing Lord Sparkstone vows to reform once the boy is rescued from the crone’s clutches. Many have been put to the question in search of his whereabouts, but no credible information has been forthcoming.’ ” Augum rubbed his face, suddenly feeling queasy.

  They were torturing people to find him. It just doesn’t end.

  Leera placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, look at it this way—no one’s going to dare step forward now, not if the Herald says they’ll be put to the question.”

  “There’s more on Erika—” Bridget tapped another article at the bottom of the parchment and took over reading. “ ‘Ms. Scarson, freshly freed from what she reported as a harrowing and highly demeaning stay at a Tiberran prison, will be attending the coming Antioc Classic. “I will be there to proudly support my nephew,” said a rosy-cheeked Ms. Scarson while sipping Titan wine. Her nephew, Robin Scarson, is a heavy favorite to win his degree. Some have taken issue with the fact Ms. Scarson will also be a judge at the prestigious event, but she insists on her impartiality, claiming, “I neither see it as here nor there that he is my nephew, thank you very much. I will be a model of fairness.” ’ ”

  Leera scoffed. “About as fair as loaded dice. Probably rigged the whole thing already.”

  Bridget went on. “ ‘Ms. Scarson then proved she had quite the sense of humor by tossing our faithful correspondent off her balcony, only to arrest his fall at the last moment.’ ”

  “She hasn’t changed a bit,” Augum said.

  Bridget turned the parchment over and continued to read. “ ‘ “I’m going to smoke the competition,” Robin Scarson was quoted as saying when the Herald caught up to him in Antioc, where the boy lounged in lush lodgings, expertly rolling a rock between his fingers. “Been practicing a bunch of awesome new spells. I’m the best in my degree in all of Sithesia.” Scarson now sports a crooked nose, a badge of honor from a fight with the unfortunately brainwashed son of the Lord of the Legion, which Scarson handily bested in a duel—’ ”

  “That’s not true at all,” Leera interrupted. “Augum beat the snot out of him. Literally. His nose—”

  “What do you expect with a Legion-controlled paper,” Bridget said, returning to the parchment. “ ‘When not commanding walkers and wraiths, Mr. Scarson is followed by his faithful friend and—hold your breath, girls, but dare we say it—possible companion, Temperance Butterwax—’ ”

  Leera burst with laughter. “I don’t know what’s funnier, Temper and Robin together, or her last name—Butterwax! Think of it, Butt—”

  “Lee, get a grip.” Bridget tried not to smile as she read on. “ ‘Mr. Scarson is constantly followed by a crowd of starry-eyed necrophyte girls, though there are rumors the throng was bribed to adore the degree favorite throughout the tournament. Mr. Scarson has decried the rumors as traitorous, and vows to root out the source and put him or her to the question.’ ”

  Leera slapped her knee, wiping away tears. “Oh, this is gold …”

  Bridget read on. “ ‘The Herald queried Mr. Scarson about his recent ascent in military rank, as well as his plans for the future. “After I win the tournament, I’m going to command my first field army,” Mr. Scarson declared. The Herald speculates Mr. Scarson refers to the rapid troop buildup along the Nodian border. There have been widespread reports of the Nodian savages slaughtering and then burning entire Solian villages. The Lord of the Legion has sworn to avenge the unfortunate souls—’ ”

  Augum felt a chill down his spine. “They’re going to war against Nodia.”

  “On a pretense of lies,” Mr. Goss said quietly. “Everybody knows the only slaughtering and razing in the kingdom is being done by the Legion.”

  “Why isn’t Canterra doing anything about it?” Jengo asked, slopping steaming oatmeal into wooden bowls. “Father?”

  “History repeats itself and Sithesia stands by,” Mr. Okeke said, prodding the fire with a distant look. “No one likes to get into a fight if they can help it.”

  “This might be why,” Bridget said. “ ‘But take solace, faithful citizens, for this Herald correspondent has recently beheld the sight of a most fearsome Dreadnought-equipped army, in a secret location, ready to do the Lord of the Legion’s bidding—’ ”

  “Ha!” Leera exclaimed. “Not without the Agonex they’re not.”

  Bridget grimaced. “ ‘Rumors of Dreadnoughts working night and day for the Legion continue to abound, but there have been no sightings of the legendary creatures yet. Meanwhile, the quest for the seventh and final scion continues. All hopes now rest on the tracking party charged with the formidable task of finding Anna Atticus Stone and the Lord of the Legion’s brainwashed son, Augum Stone. The tracking party, aided by the use of a powerful artifact only known as the divining rod, are said to—’ ” Bridget dropped the parchment and expelled a long breath. “I can’t read anymore.”

  They sat in thoughtful silence for a moment.

  Augum idly played with his birthday necklace. “Notice what wasn’t mentioned?”

  Jengo shrugged his bony shoulders as he began distributing the bowls of oatmeal. “What kind of death we’re all going to get?”

  Bridget tapped her lips. “There’s nothing about the Leyans and the Great Quest, or eternal life.”

  “Exactly,” Augum said, accepting a bowl from Jengo with a grateful nod.

  Mr. Goss paced the room. “Come to think of it, there has not been a mention in quite some time.”

  Augum smiled. “They don’t have a way to get to Ley now. This proves it. They stopped promising eternal life because they can’t get it anymore. There isn’t a copy of the recipe, and all the gates are destroyed!”

  “Don’t count your father out just yet,” Bridget said as everyone else exchanged victorious smiles with Augum. “He’s got Magua on his side, after all. He’s still making war and still searching for Mrs. Stone.”

  She was right of course. His father had six scions, the Dreadnoughts, the divining rod, his necromancy, and Magua … and who knew what or who else.

  There came a knock at the door. Jengo skipped over and opened it, revealing Haylee, balancing on her cane. She had rings under her eyes but was smiling.

  “Just in time for oatmeal,” he said, gesturing for her to come in.

  “Great, I’m starved,” she replied, hobbling by. “Who’s mentoring us now?”

  Jengo closed the door. “Bridget. Where’s Chaska?”

  Haylee found a spot at the trestle table. “Sent him to Mr. Haroun and Constable Clouds to be placed on the town watch. Gives him something to do other than mope around all day.” She spied the Herald on the table. “I read it too. Oh, I’d love to face Robin in that tournament, give him a good—” She made a strangling motion.

  “You and everyone else in this room,” Leera muttered.

  Haylee glanced around at them all. “When are we training? Can’t spend another moment with—” She gritted her teeth. “—Ms. Crazy.”

  Jengo placed a steaming bowl before her. “Ms. Singh isn’t so bad, you just need to know how to talk to her, especially when to back off.”

  Haylee rolled her eyes.

  “This I am learning,” Mr. Okeke was heard to grumble. He cleared his throat and adjusted his doublet. “I have to go to the mine soon.” He nodded at the Blackhaven Herald. “I am going to bring that to remind the miners what loose lips get one in this day and age.”

  “I am sure you will not have any problems, Kwabe,” Mr. Goss said, taking over stirring the fire. “Those miners are loyal to you and to the town. Most are hiding to avoid being drafted anyhow.”

  “Forgive me, Mr. Okeke,” Augum began, “but is it really necessary to say anything? Can’t we just keep the Resistance between a few people?” It still bothered him the whole town knew about them.

  Leland shook his head ferociously and moaned.

  “Agreed, kind of defeats the point,” Bridget said, blowing on a spoonful of steaming oatmeal. “The Resistance needs to be more than us, Aug. We need to learn to trust
others.”

  “Worry not, Augum.” Mr. Okeke gestured at the table as he took his seat. “One more there, Jengo, if you please.” He gave Augum a firm nod. “Leave it to us, we will get the town in order.”

  Jengo set another place. “Expecting company, Father?”

  “Constable Clouds’ son, actually.”

  Leera crinkled her nose. “Devon?”

  “Yes. His father asked me to expose him to more friends. He seems like an amiable but lonely young man, and was quite enamored by you all, if I remember correctly. I hope I have not overstepped my bounds.”

  “Of course not,” Bridget said with a smile. “We would be happy to be his friends, as long as he knows training comes first.”

  “This I warned him about, as did his father—”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Ah, this must be him now,” Jengo said, giving the steaming pot another stir before running for the door.

  “Hi!” Devon said the moment the door opened. “I know we’re practically the same age, but … wow, you really are so very tall!” He let himself in, flinging off his shoes. “I’m Devon, you met me yesterday,” he said, wiping greasy fingers on an ill-fitting quilted vest. “You’re Sierran, aren’t you? I’ve always wanted to go to Sierra. I bet the place is a giant desert, isn’t it?” He rushed over to the table, extending his hand across it, knocking over the salt cellar. “Thank you for inviting me to breakfast, Mr. Okeke, it really is an honor. Oh, sorry about that—”

  “Yes, indeed, it is a pleasure, young man. Would you like to have a seat—” but Devon had already run to Augum.

  “I heard you’re training today so I hope you don’t mind if I come,” Devon said, shaking Augum’s hand, stubby ponytail bouncing. “Did you read this morning’s Herald? Did you? You three are really famous you know, like, really famous.” He kept shaking Augum’s hand while throwing a dismissive wave with his other one. “Though infamous might be a better word, if you know what I mean, seeing as the Lord of the Legion is painting you as an ungrateful and brainwashed son and all that now—wow, I still can’t believe I’m in the presence of the Lord of the Legion’s son! I feel like such a rebel—”