Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  The potato-laden supper was a simple and nostalgic affair. Jengo, Priya, Chaska, Haylee, and Leland joined Augum, Bridget, Leera and Devon. They shared stories, jokes, and hopes. After a while, with their bellies full of a special carrot cake Haylee and Chaska prepared, they sat by the fire drinking sweet pine tea, saying little and watching the flames dance. Then the trio excused themselves for bed early. After washing up, they slept in the training cabins once again, the night cool and quiet. Augum had a hard time falling asleep, thoughts full of the tournament, the library, and the dangerous quest to come. Judging by the restless sounds in the other cabin, he suspected he wasn’t the only one.

  The Crate

  Mr. Goss awoke the trio well before sunrise. Everyone had dark circles under their eyes. The morning quickly proved a flurry of activity, with numerous hands pitching in with a breakfast of potatoes and some specially procured bacon, leek soup, and raspberry pie, the last courtesy of Huan, the innkeeper at the Miner’s Mule Inn. Blue robes were exchanged for black and red necrophyte ones. The map was folded neatly into a black reinforced snakeskin pouch—chosen to blend in with necromantic fashion—along with a generous 100 gold, 50 silver and 50 copper coins. Augum had never seen a gold coin before and had to take a moment to study it, only to receive quite a shock—on one side was the chiseled and skull-like face of his father wearing a crown, above which were the words Eternal Service to our Esteemed Lord of the Legion. On the other was the burning sword of the Legion and the words Duty unto death. He had heard Legion coinage was being used in the cities, but hadn’t yet seen it in the countryside. Of course, it made sense it would take time for the coins to filter out to the smaller towns and villages, replacing the old crowns of King Ridian.

  “Do I pass as one of them?” Bridget asked, giving a twirl in her necrophyte robe after securing the snakeskin pouch to her waist.

  “I could see you raising the dead already,” Leera replied, shoveling the last of her bacon into her mouth.

  “He’s on a coin?” Augum asked, looking around at them all.

  For a moment no one spoke.

  “I thought you were aware,” Mr. Okeke said. “It was in the Herald. All coins are to be exchanged at a constabulary for Legion versions.”

  “Oh.” Augum gave Bridget the coin to put in her pouch.

  Jengo barely touched his food. “I’m nervous for you three, but I’m sure you won’t die a horrible death doing this crazy quest.”

  Leera stared at him. “Thanks … thanks for that vote of confidence, Jengo.”

  Leland moaned, hands firmly clutching the Agonex.

  Augum couldn’t recall the last time he had seen him play with anything else. He gave Leland a light elbow. “Our little general is going to coordinate the Resistance while we’re gone.”

  Leland moaned again, this time louder and shorter.

  Augum raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. We’ll be careful, we promise.”

  Mr. Goss kept readjusting his spectacles. “In all seriousness though, please do be mindful of yourselves. You are going without Mrs. Stone’s help, and your face is on every poster—”

  “You mean that poorly drawn attempt depicting a squirrel and a blob of freckles, Mr. Goss?” Leera pointed out.

  “Nonetheless, I must ask you to be conservative, thoughtful, pragmatic, cautious, safe, and take risks only when absolutely necessary—”

  “—we will, Mr. Goss,” Leera said with a quick eye-roll at Augum. “We’ve done crazier things before.”

  There was a knock at the door. When Mr. Okeke opened it, Devon spilled inside. Augum glimpsed a sea of faces behind him that began talking all at once.

  “What, has the whole village come to see them off?” Jengo asked. “Great, word is definitely going to get out we’ve been harboring fugitives. I can just see the fires licking at the door—”

  “Son, please.” Mr. Okeke gave Jengo a tired look. “You know we have been having regular town meetings. Everybody is firmly on board, I assure you. Do not underestimate how much though the constable and Mr. Haroun and everyone else involved has put into this.” He offered Devon a place at the table, along with some leek soup.

  “Thank you, Mr. Okeke,” Devon said, taking a seat beside Bridget. “I couldn’t sleep I was so excited! Father says what you three are doing is going to be written into the history books along with tales of Codus Trazinius, Selma and Sinna Trailweaver, or even Atylla the Mighty! I think you’re true heroes—and you’re already quite famous, I know—but I think this is going to change the course of the war, I really do. I also think—”

  Mr. Okeke leaned down beside the boy. “Devon.”

  “Yes, Mr. Okeke?”

  Mr. Okeke smiled and patted Devon’s shoulder. “Eat your breakfast.”

  Devon blushed. “Yes, Mr. Okeke.”

  Mr. Okeke began pouring everyone tea. “Our brave threesome is going to do the best they can. We must let them enjoy the journey, not worry over it.”

  “But Father, how are we going to control what everyone says? I’m starting to get quite concerned—”

  “Leave that to us, Jengo. We old folks know a thing or two about keeping people in line. Remember that the threat of a Legion questioning holds tremendous weight. Also, vows of secrecy matter when attached to loved ones, and not a soul remains in Milham that has not taken the vow. And since we no longer receive visitors into town like we used to, it is easier to keep everyone in line.”

  “Am I supposed to be reassured by that, Father? Because I don’t feel any—”

  “—Jengo—”

  “—I mean, the chance of discovery and dying—”

  “Jengo!” Mr. Okeke gave his son a meaningful but hard look.

  Jengo’ eyes flicked to the trio. “Sorry.”

  There was a double knock at the door.

  Mr. Okeke’s ebony face lit up. “Ah, that should be the constable and Mr. Haroun.” He let them in.

  Augum noticed Lieutenant Briggs and Sergeant Cobb stationed outside the door, controlling the crowd. The thought that this was getting out of hand returned. He had to agree with Jengo—how could word possibly not get out? It took a lot of restraint for him not to tell everyone in that room to get out of Milham as soon as he and the girls left for the library. He simply had to trust they knew what they were doing.

  Clouds waddled in with his cane, Legion robe flowing around his bulk. “How do you three feel? Get a good night’s sleep?”

  “They’re excited!” Devon said with a gigantic smile, “but super nervous too, I’m sure.”

  “Will the money be ample enough?” Mr. Haroun asked, hands behind his back. “Because I can bring more—”

  Bridget dropped her eyes. “Should be more than enough, Mr. Haroun, thank you, very generous of you.”

  “Good. I am going to instruct the villagers to go about their business in a quiet manner and to remember their vow of secrecy. We are a tight-knit community here though so I expect no trouble. In a moment, the constable is going to take you to the crate. You will climb in and await the arrival of the Legion warlock courier.” He glanced between them while taking a breath. “Are you prepared for this quest?”

  Augum’s stomach buzzed with butterflies. “We are, Mr. Haroun.”

  “Then let us get to it. Excuse me.” Mr. Haroun left the cabin, immediately greeted by the throng. He began speaking to them in a calm manner, voice muted through the door.

  Bridget paced back and forth while Leera absently chewed on her fingernails. Haylee stared at the fire, repeatedly straightening a lock of long blonde hair between her fingers, cane by her side. Jengo kept fidgeting with the blue book, which he had vowed to study at length while they were gone. Devon kept rubbing his hands together, looking like he wanted to start conversation, but was held back by his father, who had a firm hand on his shoulder the entire time.

  The noise outside eventually died down as people dispersed.

  Constable Clouds used his son’s shoulder to heave hi
mself to a standing position, other hand shaking on his cane from the strain. “It is time. It would be best for you to say your goodbyes now. As discussed, we do not want to make the Legion warlock suspicious, do we?” And so everyone gathered before the fire where hugs and well wishes were exchanged.

  “Find your way back to us,” Haylee whispered as she finished hugging the trio, wiping her eyes. “And Chaska wishes you the best of course. I’d so be coming along to help, but a bunch of those necrophytes know me. I’d be recognized instantly.” She gave her leg a rancid look. “Not to mention I’d only slow you down …”

  “We understand,” Bridget said with a compassionate smile. “And thank you.”

  “Don’t die,” Jengo said, swallowing hard as his towering, gangly frame wrapped all three of them in one big hug. “I’ll be studying very hard and thinking of you all.”

  Mr. Okeke wrapped each of their hands in his, giving a firm shake. “Mind yourself and be careful,” he said to each of them. “May the Fates guide your path.”

  And so it went. It was the longest goodbye Augum had ever experienced. It made his heart ache. It also made him realize he was not very fond of long goodbyes.

  Leland was the last; he reluctantly let go of Bridget, still clutching the Agonex with tiny fingers. She whispered they would return and wiped his tear-stained cheeks. The trio then solemnly departed with Mr. Haroun, Constable Clouds, Devon, Lieutenant Briggs and Sergeant Cobb. Villagers kept a respectful distance, but all snuck peeks at the three hooded necrophytes quietly making their way to the Haroun home. Augum felt like it was some kind of strange procession, almost funereal. He could not help thinking that all it took was one of those people to inform the Legion and claim a great prize. He had a sour feeling about so many people knowing who they were, and had to keep telling himself to trust the constable and Mr. Haroun and everyone else involved with the town’s defense.

  Clayborne greeted them at the door with a stiff bow. “Follow me, please.” He led them past a stone-faced Mrs. Haroun and a sullen Annelise, who gave Augum a meaningful look he did not understand, before taking them down to the cellar, where Gabe was placing books into the crate.

  Clayborne stiffened. “Son, what are you doing here?”

  “Just helping, Father. I shall see myself out.”

  “That you will, and immediately.”

  Gabe kept his head down while he shuffled by and zipped up the steps. How odd, Augum thought.

  “A reminder that the Legion warlock has never been here before,” Clouds said as they lined up before the crate. It was mostly full of books already, leaving a gap for them to climb into. “And has therefore had to ride here from Eastspear, departing before sunrise. I shall greet the person at the entrance to town. We expect the warlock soon, so it is best that you hurry. Devon will help hide you.”

  Clouds let go of his son’s shoulder and reached out to each of them, shaking their hands. “May the Unnameables light your way,” he said after letting go of Augum’s hand. “And remember—do not speak of the Agonex or the scions to anyone. Do not reveal who you are; use disguises. Do not befriend lightly. Do not trust lightly.”

  “Thank you, Constable,” Augum said. “We will be careful.”

  Devon could not look any of them in the eye. His lip trembled and he said nothing.

  “Goodbye, Devon,” Bridget said at last. “Wish us luck.”

  Devon sniffed and nodded. “I … I wish you all the luck in Sithesia. May the Unnameables watch over you … and stuff.”

  “I shall leave you to your brave quest,” Clouds said, departing, cane prodding at the floor. He turned to look them over one last time from the staircase. “The kingdom needs you,” and he left, muttering, “So brave for ones so young …”

  Mr. Haroun stepped forward, shaking each of their hands. “I wish you nothing but success. Be careful, stay alert, and watch out for each other.”

  “We will, Mr. Haroun,” Bridget replied.

  Mr. Haroun reached into a pocket and withdrew a wax-sealed letter. “This is for the senior arcaneologist, Lien Ning.”

  Bridget received the letter. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Haroun smiled before gesturing welcomingly at the crate. One by one, the trio climbed in, settling at the bottom. Mr. Haroun and Devon, the latter sniffling throughout, began burying them with books.

  Augum and Leera found each other’s hand and squeezed. The candlelight steadily dimmed, finally obscured completely by books. The trio stayed silent throughout, breathing short bursts in the confined space, which quickly grew hot and dark.

  “I’ll come and give you a warning when the warlock is almost here,” they heard Devon say, his voice muffled as it fought through the piles of books.

  “He better arrive soon,” Leera whispered after Devon departed. “Can barely breathe in here.”

  Augum tried to keep his breathing even, thinking this had to be the most uncomfortable space he had ever been in.

  Bridget’s breathing was the fastest though. “Can’t stand cramped spaces,” she muttered.

  “Hang in there, Bridge,” Augum said. He recalled the cave under Bahbell and how Bridget had struggled. Poor thing.

  Finally, Devon’s voice rang out. “She’s coming, she’s coming—! The Legion warlock is here! Good luck, you three!” His footsteps echoed in the cellar, muffled by the heaps of books the trio was buried under.

  Soon there were more footsteps, and this time the trio held their breath.

  “It is here, Ms. Terse,” said the wheezing constable.

  “What is this? Are you transporting an entire library?” came a piercing female voice. “A bit overzealous with the confiscations, were you not?”

  “I find it is best to keep the villagers as ignorant as possible, Ms. Terse. It serves our Lordship’s interests best. And not all are confiscations. Milham is a proud supporter of the Legion. Many of these books have been donated by the local populace who are eager to see the Legion succeed. They recognize sacrifices have to be made for future necrophytes.”

  Augum could almost feel Leera smirking. He squeezed her hand in acknowledgment of Constable Clouds’ deft handling of the Legion warlock.

  “That is all well and good, but the object is much larger than I usually teleport. It’s going to cost you more.”

  There was the sound of a bag of coins clinking. “I believe you shall find this adequate compensation for your troubles,” Mr. Haroun replied.

  “Ah, that will indeed do.”

  “Now if you would be so kind, Ms. Terse,” Clouds continued, “please teleport this crate to Lien Ning, the senior arcaneologist in the Antioc libr—”

  “—I know who she is,” Ms. Terse interrupted. “The old lunatic receives a parcel every tenday regarding some fine point in arcanery. I do believe chicken scratchings would shed more light on any subject than the ravings of that shriveled thing.”

  “Nonetheless, the Legion is grateful for your services.”

  “Is it now? And when am I going to attain this so-called ‘eternal life’ gratitude supposedly bestows?”

  There was a marked pause. “I shall pretend I did not hear that, Ms. Terse.”

  Clouds was indeed skilled at this, Augum thought.

  “Forgive me, Constable, I forget myself.” There was the sound of swishing fabric as someone strolled near. “Stand back, please.” After a moment of silence, “Impetus peragro obiectum massus!”

  But nothing happened except a groan.

  “It’s too heavy. You’re going to have to lose some books.”

  There was a marked silence.

  “Of course,” the constable eventually said. “Devon, give us a hand.”

  There was a stuttering sound and quick footsteps.

  Augum swallowed. He could barely breathe as the sound of books thumping against the ground echoed in the cellar.

  “Try now, Ms. Terse.”

  “Constable, I do not think that is enough—”

  “Ms. Terse, every book removed i
s one fewer book for our young necrophytes, the very future of the Legion.”

  “As you wish.” After another moment of concentrated silence, “Impetus peragro obiectum massus!” and Augum felt himself and the crate yank.

  The Ancient Library of Antioc

  Being pulled apart in all directions while tumbling end-over-end only to wake up in a tight, dark space was enough to make Augum nearly throw up. He had not prepared for teleporting in such a manner, and judging by their silent writhing, neither had Bridget and Leera. It was a hard struggle not to make any noise as they heard quick, clacking footsteps approach.

  “Giant crate of books for the lunatic, Prudence,” Ms. Terse said.

  “Jezebel,” replied a squeaky female voice. “Did not expect to see you back so soon.”

  There was a barely audible noise not unlike a shrug. “This one paid well. Some fat constable and his contribution to necrophyte knowledge. Bunch of confiscations, blah, blah, blah. The usual.”

  There was a small snort of laughter. “What, did he hide himself in it? It’s huge.”

  A wave of fear rippled down Augum’s spine, combining with the nausea from teleporting. Oh no, were they going to search the crate?

  “My thoughts exactly,” Ms. Terse replied. “I’m willing to bet not one of these books has anything to do with arcanery.”

  “I’m of the same mind. Every eager constable from here to Dramask seems to think they can curry favor by ‘contributing to the pool of knowledge’. Fools. They must think we have an unlimited supply of attendants to catalog and sort it all, forgetting most had been snatched for the war effort. What a waste of talent, if you ask me.”

  Ms. Terse sighed. “I should see her and get this signed in.”

  “She’s busy berating the head examiner for volunteering as a judge in the tournament.”