Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  Bridget was shaking her head, eyes darting between the three family members. “No, I don’t know, I mean … yes, she was trying to—”

  Mrs. Haroun, still clutching her chest, wavered like a tree about to fall. “You heard it from the girl’s own lips, Hanad. This supposed hero witch just called your daughter a harlot to your face. The family name has been defiled, our honor besmirched. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Mr. Haroun,” Augum began in the calmest tone he could, “Malaika tried to …” but he couldn’t form the words. What words were there to describe what she had done? He had never heard of such a thing, let alone experienced it before.

  The Harouns turned to him, waiting for what he was going to say next.

  “She tried to deceive me,” he blurted finally, unable to think past the fog of confusion surrounding every thought.

  “But you said you loved me!” Malaika cried. “You said we were going to get married! You promised! Mother, Father … he promised me! I am ruined now!”

  “What! I never said that! I never promised you a thing! You aren’t ruined at all!”

  Haylee hobbled forward, pointing an accusing finger in Malaika’s face. “She lied,” Haylee spat in a clear and firm voice. “She’s a liar. I saw it with my own eyes. The whole thing. Theatre. Nothing but theatre.”

  Augum gaped a moment before taking hold of his wrangled nerves. “Yes! Yes, she is lying! I don’t … like her like that at all, and I never promised anything to her, nor did I, I … ruin her, whatever that means!”

  Mr. Haroun studied Haylee and Augum a moment before turning to his daughter with a granite look. “Malaika, did you make all of this up? Is that what is happening? Again? Did you lie to your father?”

  Malaika’s eyes darted about before settling on her father’s cold gaze. “No, Father, we love each other and he promised to marry me—”

  “Malaika Haroun, do you recall when we had that long conversation about telling the truth? Hmm?”

  Malaika shrank, swallowing hard. “But … but … but I love him, Father, we’re meant to be together …” Her lips began trembling.

  Mr. Haroun’s voice was steel. “You are coming home. This. Instant,” and he began marching away. “THIS INSTANT!” he roared, ascending the bank.

  Mrs. Haroun placed the back of her hand to her forehead as she threatened to wilt. “But, Hanad—”

  “Oh, open your eyes, Selma! Enough is enough!” Mr. Haroun made a firm gesture to the town. “Home. Now!” He turned to Augum with an apologetic look, opened his mouth to say something, but only ended up shaking his head at his daughter in revulsion. “What a disgrace. A disgrace! You have shamed this house in a most unwholesome way, Daughter. I am … beyond disappointed. The house. NOW!”

  Malaika gave Augum a bitter look before stomping past her father, hands in front, head hanging. Mrs. Haroun, suddenly not feeling faint anymore, raised her chin and rigidly followed without a word, holding her skirts above the grass.

  Charissa shook her head at Augum. “You threw perfect happiness away as if it was worthless. Hope you’re proud of yourself.” She turned her back on him and marched after the others.

  Augum was in such a state he plopped to the ground. “What … what was … what was that …?”

  “That,” Bridget said, watching them disappear over the valley edge, “is high society. At least, one version of it.”

  “The crazy version,” Haylee added.

  Jengo, who had been watching from beside Leland the entire time, fell back to lie on the grass. “How does Father survive such a thing?” he mumbled. “Oh, please, Unnameables, let me avoid that. Please …”

  Bridget sat down beside Augum. “You were perceived to be a good match. Sadly, I’ve seen it before.”

  Haylee sat down beside them with a groan, holding the cane over her knees. “There’s even a name for it—love trapping.”

  “Love trapping? A good match?” Augum rubbed his face. “A good match?” He had a good match already. Suddenly he recalled the way Leera clutched at her chest, the agonized expression on her face. He shot to his feet. “I’ve got to find her—”

  Bridget stood as well. “All right, we’ll go look for her. Haylee, Jengo, mind staying with Leland?”

  “I’ll keep working with him,” Haylee said. “Good luck, and don’t worry, if it comes down to it, I’ll even talk to Leera.” She flashed a wry smile.

  Augum nodded at Haylee. “And thanks … for speaking up for me.”

  She gave a nod in return. “That’s what friends do.”

  Looking for Leera

  As sunset neared, Augum and Bridget searched everywhere for Leera, splitting up to cover more ground. They even recruited Chaska, who had been patrolling the outskirts of town in his new role as watchman. He had an extra bounce in his step and proudly showed off the sword the Constable’s guards had lent him. Luckily, there weren’t many people about to impede their search—everyone was having supper, and soon it would be dark anyway.

  As Chaska strode between houses, peeking behind barrels and wagons, Bridget met Augum by the well in the center of town.

  “Anything?” she asked, eyes darting about as she fixed her ponytail.

  Augum held his elbows, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Nothing. I’m an idiot. I should have run after her immediately—”

  “It’s all right, it’ll get sorted out. Besides, you didn’t know what was happening, and honestly, I don’t blame you. That was some serious trickery. Just imagine if Malaika had been a warlock.”

  The thought made Augum shudder. It also reminded him of Erika.

  “Maybe she just needs some time to herself,” Bridget said.

  “Malaika needs more than time to herself,” he muttered.

  “No, I mean Leera.”

  “Oh.”

  Bridget looked him over. “You look terrible.”

  “You blame me?”

  “Of course not. We haven’t eaten much all day. Come on, let’s have supper while we think about what to do next.”

  “I’m not hungry. I’d rather keep searching.”

  “I know, Aug, but once you smell the food, you’ll see how hungry you really are. Besides, you’ll be able to think straight.”

  “The letter was drafted and sent on its way this morning,” interrupted a voice behind them. Augum and Bridget turned to find Constable Clouds standing on the other side of the well, leaning on his cane, his great girth spilling out of his black Legion garment.

  “Oh, hello, Constable,” Bridget said.

  “Briggs is the courier, so we can be sure it will arrive in a speedy manner.” Clouds studied them a moment. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, Constable,” Augum replied. “Err, mostly,” he added in afterthought. Only his entire world was crashing.

  “I see.” Clouds dabbed at his face with a cloth. “These garments are quite hot, I have to say, but duty is duty.” He sighed. “My son is in a state—”

  “—I’m awfully sorry about that, Constable,” Bridget blurted, “I didn’t mean—”

  “It is all right, my dear, I understand. Unfortunately, it has happened before. But …” He dabbed at his face again. “Do you suppose …”

  “Yes, Constable?”

  “Do you think you can forgive Devon and include him in your activities somehow? He is in great need of friendship. It pains me deeply to see him in such a state, so alone and miserable.”

  “Yes, of course, Constable, where is he? I’ll talk to him right away and apologize.”

  “He’s with Miss Jones.”

  Augum perked up. “With Leera?”

  “Yes, I believe they went on a walk together—”

  “A walk? Which way?” Augum pressed.

  Clouds pointed with his cane in the direction of the Okeke home, where a path snaked well beyond the cabin and into the woods.

  “Thank you, Constable,” Bridget said, and immediately set off with Augum.

  Augum’s
mind raced as they strode to the Okeke home. Leera found Devon annoying … why would she be with him right now?

  “Hello, Mr. Okeke,” Bridget said as they walked inside, encountering the aroma of roasted chicken and potatoes. “Is Leera here?”

  Mr. Okeke looked up from tending the roasting fire. “No, I am afraid I have not seen her.”

  “Ready for supper, you two?” Mr. Goss asked with a smile from the table, reading a parchment.

  Augum’s stomach rumbled. Bridget was right—suddenly he was starving, or at least his body was. Last thing he cared about right now was food though.

  “Almost,” Bridget replied. “We’ll bring Jengo and Leland.”

  “Thank you, that would be wonderful. Oh, and the letter was sent by courier this morning.”

  “We heard, thank you, Mr. Goss,” Bridget said absently, readying to leave again.

  “And the crate is coming along swimmingly!” Mr. Goss added, pushing on his spectacles. “Should have it done soon. We’ve already started soliciting for book donations to be … confiscated, so to speak.”

  Bridget forced a chuckle. “Yes, we can’t wait. Uh, please excuse us—”

  Augum and Bridget set off again into the woods, following the path that led to the hilltop glade where the Star Feast had been held. They caught glimpses of the distant Muranians through the trees, their great snow-capped peaks glinting in the sun. Augum recalled scaling those rocky behemoths, and for a moment, couldn’t believe they had actually accomplished such a feat.

  The path rose and fell as they walked through the peaceful forest, neither saying a word. Augum had difficulty swallowing. His mouth felt dry and his nerves tingled. He couldn’t get his mind off the way Leera clutched at her heart.

  At last, they came upon the glade, sitting high on a hill, surrounded by stubby evergreens that made visible a vast panorama of forest and distant mountains. In the center of the clearing, by three dark fire pits, sat Devon and Leera, facing away.

  A shock ran through Augum, stiffening every muscle—Devon was holding Leera in his arms.

  Bridget saw his reaction. “He’s just comforting her, Aug, I’m sure—” but just as she turned back to the clearing, they both witnessed Devon kiss Leera’s head, then stroke her hair.

  Augum felt his breath bursting in and out. His stomach twisted and churned. He felt lightheaded and braced against a tree.

  “Aug, I’m sure it’s nothing—”

  Augum shook his head and began stumbling back the way they had come, numb as ice.

  “Aug, I’m certain it’s not what it looks like! Where are you going—!”

  He stumped along, barely conscious of what he was doing, leaving Bridget and the glade and Devon and Leera behind. At some point, he veered off the path, not wanting to go back to Milham, not wanting to see anyone. He slumped against a gnarled oak, hidden in the woods amongst a nest of pines and cedars. A stream trickled nearby as crickets chirped, yet all he heard was the resounding thrum of a shattered heart.

  Tender Agony

  Augum sat against that gnarled oak replaying what he had seen—Devon kissing Leera’s head as he held her in his arms, each time feeling the stabbing pain anew. Those butterflies he felt every time he had seen Leera; held her hand, kissed her—those butterflies had had their wings ripped out, leaving behind a hollow, rotting buzz.

  He hugged his legs and drew his hood, resting his head on his knees. How he missed her already. How could she have moved on so quickly like that? It stung like a thousand needles. Just as he had witnessed her clutch her heart and tear it out, he now felt like his own had been ripped out of his chest—ripped out and ground underfoot.

  He heard quiet voices nearby on the path. It was Bridget, Leera and Devon, and they were walking back to Milham. There was a laugh, a laugh that penetrated his soul like the sharpest dagger. He imagined Devon holding hands with Leera, the pair chuckling happily, and felt a hot flush of shame cascade through his body. He pictured them kissing and holding each other and felt a queasy nausea that made him want to vomit.

  It took all his strength to push those visions out of his mind.

  What was he going to do now? Go back and pretend everything was rosy? How could he ever smile again? How could he sit near her or lay eyes on her without feeling a thousand swords slice into his chest?

  He slammed the ground with his fists, angry with Leera, Devon, Malaika … and especially, himself.

  “Fool,” he said aloud. “Stupid, arrogant, lousy, idiotic fool—!” A hot rage began building as he stood. The rage made his muscles and soul vibrate. Three crackling rings unconsciously ruptured around his arm. The energy kept building, so quickly it made him dizzy. He slammed his wrists together.

  “ANNIHILO!”

  A searing heat ripped through his very being, exploding from his hands. A bolt of lightning as thick as a log connected with a pine, instantly snapping it. The tree collapsed on itself, mirroring Augum’s fall to the ground.

  The crash ripped through the forest.

  He lay there, spent, head throbbing, barely conscious. Was that wild arcanery? He couldn’t tell. Great, he was regressing, like some fearful animal. No, like some wounded animal, for that’s how he felt—a deer speared with an arrow, twitching, ready for slaughter.

  Time passed. The sky dimmed in hue as sunset came and went. The throbbing slowly went away. His arcane energies replenished, yet he still felt as hollow as an empty barrel.

  He stared at the fallen pine before him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to it, but that did not make the tree better again. It lay as before, silent, dying.

  He had done that. Killed something that had stood in untroubled peace for many more years than he had been alive.

  He had killed two men too. Men who had also walked Sithesia far longer than he had been alive.

  Is this how it happens? How people turn into an Erika? A Blade of Sorrows? A Robin? One awful moment of rage after another? Of forgetfulness?

  Was he turning into his father?

  At last, with the sky a fiery red, he dragged himself off the ground. No use sitting out here pouting all night. There were things to accomplish, important things, things that took precedence over such small concerns like relationships and … love.

  That word made his heart constrict so tightly he actually put his hand to his chest, again remembering Leera do the same thing. He winced but quickly shook off the feeling.

  No, there were things to do. He had to learn to deal with his emotions. He had to be as cold as ice, as hard as … as hard as stone.

  Augum Stone.

  “Fitting,” he said aloud with a blubbery snort.

  He shook out his limbs, trying to release the tension, the deep sorrow, and began the long walk back to Milham, careful not to drag his feet or slump his shoulders. He was conscious of everything he did, every minor movement, as if readying to cast Centarro.

  When he spotted the windows of the Okeke cabin aglow with warmth, he paused, feeling that familiar tightness in his chest. A burst of laughter from inside the cabin cut through him like a jet of water shot out from Leera’s palm. A vision of him walking right by, walking on and on forever, paraded before his mind. They all certainly thought of him in an awful light now; why should he foul their joy with his shame?

  “Augum—?”

  He turned to see Malaika step out from behind a tree, ebony face wet with tears, which she promptly brushed away with her sleeve.

  Augum felt his muscles tighten. “You.”

  “Augum, I … I am so sorry for … for my deceit.” She held herself, rubbing her own shoulders while staring at her feet. “I … I know it was wrong, but I just want you to understand that it came from … it came from love.” She glanced up. “I love you, Augum Stone, I do. I loved you since the day we first met. Do you remember the dance—?”

  Augum glanced away. “I don’t want to hear it.” He needed his feet to move, yet he just stood there. Like a fool. Again.

  Malaika began slow
ly walking toward him. “Augum, please, just hear me. I would take it all back if I could. I … I would do things differently.” She stopped an arm’s length away and reached out for him.

  He could not keep the venom from his voice. “I don’t ever want to see you or talk to you again.”

  Malaika’s hand froze in midair, a finger-length from his arm. Suddenly she burst with a cry that came from some deep, lonely place. “You … you don’t mean that.”

  He turned to face her, except all he saw was Leera symbolically tearing out her heart. “I do mean it.”

  Malaika’s hands shook as they rose to her face. “I think I’m going to be sick—” and she stumbled away, muddy dress fluttering.

  He did not watch her go. His gaze lingered on the trees. He exhaled, not realizing he had not breathed since seeing her.

  Now what though?

  He paced to the Okeke cabin, feeling a little lighter. He reached for the door handle. His palm hung in the air, sweaty.

  Suddenly the door opened and there was Devon. As soon as he saw Augum, his pudgy face lit up with a wide smile. “Finally! She was so worried.”

  “Is it him?” asked a shaky voice from inside.

  Devon turned. “Yes—!”

  Augum caught a shadow as someone ran to the door, immediately bumping Devon out of the way. Suddenly there was Leera, looking as radiant as the moon. Her face had a pinched redness to it, as if she had been crying, yet her freckles were soft in the rapidly dimming light.

  Devon tactfully shut the door, leaving them alone outside.

  “Hi,” Augum managed to finally blurt, feeling his stomach churn. He had not even practiced what he was going to say, or how he was going to explain everything.

  Leera’s arched brows softened as she looked him in the eye. “Bridget and Haylee told me everything. It was Malaika. I’m such a stupid fool.”

  A waterfall of cool relief swept over Augum. He felt his muscles relax, his breathing ease. He could have floated away right there.

  She reached out to him but stopped herself. “I’m … I’m sorry for behaving so … so childishly. And I’m really sorry for slapping you. I … I don’t deserve—”