Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  Leera placed a hand over her eyes and dropped her head. “Are. You. Kidding. Me?” She raised her head. “There is all sorts of stupid wrong with that. And you don’t even know any spells, or … or … what your story is, or—”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Malaika smiled at Charissa, who nodded excitedly.

  Leera stabbed a finger at Malaika. “We’re not babysitting you. If you get caught, we’re not going to—”

  Bridget placed a hand on her arm, giving her a pointed look. “They’re not going home. We have to work together, maybe we should give them something to do.”

  “What? Bridge, are you crazy? They’ll screw it up and bring the whole city down on us!”

  Malaika crossed her arms. “She’s so graceful.”

  Leera’s eyes narrowed as three watery rings rippled to life around her arm. “Let me show you the grace of my arcane fist—”

  Charissa raised porcelain hands in squeamish defense. “What a brute—”

  “Lee, please,” Bridget said, stepping between them. “And you two—you’ve complicated everything. Look, why don’t you stick with us for a little while? We’ll even … go to the opening ceremony with you or something.”

  Augum and Leera jerked their heads at Bridget.

  “We have to work together,” Bridget said, her eyes imploring them to go along with it.

  Augum rubbed his face, suddenly feeling weary. “Fine.” For now, until they found a way to parcel them up and send them on some rickety wagon all the way back to Milham.

  A gentle knock came at the door, startling everyone.

  “Secretary Klines?” Augum asked tentatively, but there was no response.

  “I’ll get it,” Malaika said.

  Leera grabbed her arm. “Not you—”

  “Let go of me, you feral—”

  Leera let go with a jerk, but her hand curled into a tight fist as she glared at Malaika.

  “Allow me,” Charissa said, giving Leera a smarmy look. “Trust me, I know how to be cordial.”

  Leera hesitated but stepped out of her way as Charissa went to the door, only to stare at it. “Uh, how does this door work again?”

  “Oh for the—” Leera drew her hood and marched over, “Shyneo,” placed her hand where the door handle should be and said, “Leigh Sparrows.” The door swung open. Leera immediately turned her head away. Augum also kept his face averted, but glimpsed gray robes.

  “The Herald, as requested,” said a man’s silky voice. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The man cleared his throat lightly.

  “Oh, right, uh, excuse me.” Charissa hurried back to them. “He wants a tip.”

  “You have a giant sack of coins,” Leera hissed through gritted teeth.

  “Country bumpkin,” Malaika muttered, but she made no effort to reach into her moneybag.

  “I grew up in Blackhaven, if you ever call me a country—”

  “Lee, not now.” Bridget exasperatingly rooted in her snakeskin pouch, handing a copper over.

  “Don’t be cheap,” Malaika said. “We don’t want to look like peasants. Father always tips in silver.”

  Bridget hesitated but withdrew a silver instead.

  Charissa snatched it and skipped back to the door. “Here you go.”

  “Most generous, thank you,” said the man, before striding off.

  Leera was seething, muttering things like, “Ridiculous,” and “Not going to put up with this …”

  Charissa brought Bridget the Herald, which Augum immediately noticed was the Antioc Herald as opposed to the Blackhaven Herald, which they were used to. He crowded Bridget to give it a read while Malaika went on about all the things she and Charissa were going to see, including the tournament, and how it was a shame the trio were going to be cooped up indoors with a bunch of stuffy old books. Leera glared at her, looking ready to explode. Augum had to place a hand on her right arm, in case it suddenly flared with rings.

  There were three pages in this special edition, two of which were solely about the Antioc Classic. Depicted were fifteen tournament combat brackets, each with sixteen combatants fighting to be the winner for that degree.

  “Opening ceremonies today, qualifiers tomorrow,” Augum noted.

  Leera finally took notice and placed her chin on his shoulder. “Wish I was competing. Then I’d be matched against Temper Buttwax.”

  Augum spied an etching of Erika Scarson standing beside two other warlocks. She held something close to her chest, a mace of some sort. He leaned closer and suddenly realized what it was. “She’s holding it!”

  “Holding what?” Bridget asked, searching the same etching.

  “The divining rod! Look—”

  Bridget squinted. “I think you’re right …”

  “That’s it, I know it is. She’s parading it for all to see, it’s just like her. What’s the description say?”

  “ ‘Ms. Erika Scarson, seen here with the other two judges, will be chasing the villainous traitor Anna Atticus Stone when not presiding over the duels. As the honored judge of this year’s tournament, she will also be presenting the trophy to each winner in their degree.’ ”

  Augum felt all the blood rush to his head. Erika Scarson was presenting the winners with the trophy, and she held the divining rod. Suddenly he knew exactly what he needed to do.

  “Aug? What is it?” Leera asked, brows furrowing with concern.

  “I’m going to enter.”

  “Huh? Enter what?”

  “I’m going to enter the tournament … and I have to win.”

  Persuasion

  When the cries declaring Augum completely mad for wanting to enter the tournament settled down a little, he tried to explain himself.

  “It’s our only chance to steal the divining rod—”

  “No, uh-uh, no way, no how,” Leera was saying, shaking her head and making disavowing gestures with her arms.

  “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve beaten Robin before. I think I can do it again.” Though truthfully, he knew the odds were stacked against him—Robin was 4th degree already, knew some necromancy, and his crazy aunt was a judge.

  Bridget scowled. “Augum, do you realize what it is you would be up against? Every eyeball in the city will be watching you, and that’s even if you somehow get in to the tournament, since it’s already fully booked. Then, you have to somehow make it past four opponents—”

  “—and not be recognized,” Leera threw in.

  “So? I’ll wear a disguise or something—”

  “Augum, you can’t get in anyway, you don’t have your 4th degree ring yet!” Bridget said.

  “Well, there’s that, but …” He rubbed his forehead. “What if we took the test today?”

  “Do you know how much it even costs to take the test in a city like this?”

  “We have gold. Lots of it. We can at least look into it, can’t we?”

  There was silence during which they all stared at him with slack looks of disbelief.

  “I think he can do it,” Malaika blurted.

  “Stay out of this,” Leera snapped, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t, do I? What if I told you I happen to know someone in the tournament battling in the 4th degree!”

  “You … you do?” Augum asked.

  “Yes! Jens Madis Bjornsson. Big blonde-haired fellow who is a friend of the family.”

  “I thought he never wants to see you again after you declared your love—” Charissa began but was silenced by a stern look from Malaika.

  “And what, you think you can convince him to drop out or something?” Leera said sarcastically. “After no doubt having put him through hell?”

  Malaika crossed her arms to mirror Leera. “I think I can.”

  “This is the dumbest idea ever. Augum’s not going to—Bridge? I don’t like the look on your face—”

  Bridget had wandered to the window, chewing on her nail. “I just re
alized something …”

  “How crazy the idea is? Good, because we have work to—”

  “No, not that. It’s crazy, yes, but if …” Bridget turned to face them. “The divining rod looks for scions, so if Augum steals it, that would mean we could find his father anytime we wanted.”

  Augum gaped at her. “Bridget, you’re a genius.”

  “It’d also mean Mrs. Stone could train us without anyone getting in our way,” she added.

  Which meant Cron, Augum thought uneasily. But he’d worry about that spell later. In fact, it would be a privilege to worry about Cron, for it would mean success in this crazy endeavor.

  “Am I the only one who suddenly sees reason?” When no one replied, Leera threw her hands into the air. “Great, just great. Throw your life away on the craziest, stupidest—”

  “It’s a chance though,” Augum said. “And I’m going to take it, Lee. I’m going to take it.” He took a step toward her. “But I … I won’t be able to do it without you.”

  Leera gave him a sorrowful, exasperated look. “Damn right you won’t.” She sighed. “You stupid fool, of course I’m going to help you, but—”

  He scooped her up in his arms and twirled around.

  “Let go of me, you dumb, stubborn—” but she was holding back a giggle.

  Malaika sighed, turning her head away.

  “If we’re going to do this, we need to really think it through,” Bridget said, grabbing the Herald and scanning the page. “We have five days until the finals. You have one duel a day, and we still have to do all that research.”

  “While not getting caught,” Leera added through her teeth, giving Augum a hard punch on the shoulder after he let her go. “Fool.”

  “But first, of course, we need to get you to a high degree warlock to take the test.” Bridget lowered the parchment. “Maybe there’s a test room in the library.”

  Augum strode to the desk and opened a drawer, finding the map of the library. It was a gargantuan castle. He read out the names of some rooms. “ ‘… Portal Room A, Portal Room B, Steward’s Office, Study Hall, Supper Hall, Training Room …’ Hmm, no testing room.”

  “No examination room?”

  He scrolled back up the list. “There are four! Examination Rooms A, B, C and D.”

  “Perfect.” Bridget glanced to Malaika. “And you’re sure you can talk to your friend and convince him to drop out?”

  “And do you even know how to find him?” Leera asked.

  “Yes, of course.” Malaika looked longingly at Augum. “We’ll leave right away.”

  “Do you remember our fake names if you have to send us a message?” Bridget pressed.

  “Remind me.”

  “Bridget pointed at herself. “Brie Sparrows,” she pointed at Leera, “Leigh Sparrows,” lastly at Augum, “and Augustus Westwood.”

  Malaika gave a nod of her head. “Room 1099. Brie, Leigh, Augustus. Kind of similar to your real names a bit though, don’t you think?”

  “Just go already,” Leera said. “We’ll meet here later.”

  Malaika gave her a cold look and turned on her heel, Charissa following dutifully.

  “And be discrete!” Leera shouted after her.

  Malaika stopped at the door, but did not turn around. “Door please.”

  Leera rubbed her forehead. “Neither of them were paying attention. Unbelievable.”

  Augum strode over. “Shyneo. Augustus Westwood,” and it opened for them. “You just have to place your hand on it and say your name, that’s all.”

  “Right, thank you,” Malaika replied. She stared at him a moment. “Augum—” and tried to get near him but he stepped away, keeping his face impassive and eyes averted.

  “I see. Good luck then,” she said in hurt tones, and disappeared down the hall with Charissa.

  “The portal room—” Bridget suddenly said, striding for the door. “I have to show them how to work a portal, otherwise they’ll search for stairs,” and she ran after them.

  Augum closed the door, turning to face Leera. She played with the cuff of her sleeve, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Yes, it’s crazy, but you know it’s the best chance we’ve got at saving Nana.” When she did not reply, he strode to her and embraced her in a gentle hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist.

  “I’m … nervous.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  They held each other in dead silence until the door opened. They let go as Bridget strode into the room.

  “Right. You two ready? Then get your hoods up, because we’re about to try for our 4th degree.”

  * * *

  Using the map and a portal room, they made it to the outside of Examination Room A, in some curving hallway in the depths of the castle. A scrawny elderly dark-skinned woman with a face brimming with piercings stood behind an iron-studded desk.

  Augum spied a name plate etched with the words Secretary Sanjipta. Examination Office. “Uh, excuse me, Mrs. Sanjipta—”

  “—Secretary Sanjipta,” the woman corrected without glancing up from her work.

  “Right, Secretary Sanjipta—we’d like to inquire how much it costs to take a degree test.”

  “Show me your stripes.”

  Augum proudly flashed his three lightning rings. She finally deigned to briefly raise her eyes, but only momentarily.

  “At ten per degree, testing for the 4th degree is forty gold,” she said, returning to her work.

  “Each?” That was a fortune!

  “Each.”

  That made it 120 gold for all three of them, and they only had 100. “Is there maybe a group discount or something if we all took the test at the same time? Would you accept one hundred gold?”

  Bridget leaned into his ear. “Aug, we can’t afford—”

  “Are all three of you doing the same test?” Secretary Sanjipta asked in a monotonous voice.

  “Yes,” he blurted, flashing his most endearing smile.

  The way her eyes flicked over them told Augum she’d prefer nothing more than to see the backs of them. She sighed. “Very well then.”

  “Great!” Augum blurted. It was all of their gold, but he’d worry about that later.

  Bridget grabbed his arm. “Are you sure about this, Augustus?”

  “Not doing it without you two by my side. Besides, you know we’re prepared.”

  “Let’s do it, Bridge,” Leera said, gleaming. “I mean, err, Brie.”

  The trio quickly glanced at the woman to see if she had noticed the mistake, but she was immersed in her paperwork.

  Bridget sighed. “We should do one final practice round then. Can’t afford to fail.”

  “No refunds once the gold is paid,” the woman said.

  “Then where’s your Training Room?” Augum asked her.

  “Do you have a map?”

  “Yes.”

  “Try using it.”

  “Uh, right. Thanks.”

  They strode off.

  “Great, now we’ll be broke too,” Leera said.

  “We’ll still have some coin left.” Augum turned to Bridget inquiringly.

  “After the test, we’ll have forty-nine silver, fifty copper,” she said.

  Leera made a quick motion for them to keep their heads low as they passed a gray-robed woman. “If everything here costs something, we’re not going to last.”

  “We’ll beg if we have to,” he said. “And don’t forget to tuck your hair in, you two.”

  The girls hurriedly tucked their long hair into their hoods.

  They soon found their way to a pair of very large doors exquisitely carved with a dragon battling a gargoyle. There was a flowing inscription below: Thou shalt suffer this day to reap ye fruits of tomorrow.

  Bridget placed a hand on a well-worn spot on the door where there should have been a door handle. “Shyneo. Bridget—err, I mean Brie Sparrows.” The mass
ive doors opened, flooding the hallway with the echoes of warlocks practicing their craft. There were dozens of them, nearly all wearing necrophyte robes.

  For a moment, the trio could only gape. Before them was a vast cavern-like room with all kinds of scenery—there was a towering jungle in one corner with vines and ropes and bamboo ladders leading to bamboo platforms, on top of which dueled two warlocks, one blocking a wind attack with his shield. There was a trio of small mountains in another corner, with great boulders two warlocks hid behind, obviously fighting on the same side in some kind of war game. Springy platforms were embedded into another wall, with warlocks jumping from one to another, a wide rope safety net below. There was a stone maze with what looked like traps sticking out of it, and nearby, a giant pool, on top of which floated huge and squishy pond leaves. A young female warlock in a necrophyte robe stood too long on one and sank with a sploosh. To the left stood an obstacle field of straw dummies and statues of beasts and men that fought back, reminding Augum of the Leyan log and stick figure his great-grandfather animated. There was a giant rickety-looking house with all kinds of exterior perches, as if for owls or something, but bigger. There was a massive tree, except the trunk was hollow with open holes for windows. A warlock practiced by himself somewhere in its thick canopy, for they could see palm-light flashing now and then.

  “There’s a castle even,” Leera said, pointing giddily at a miniature multi-story castle complete with arched stained glass windows, a moat, and a drawbridge.

  “And look up there,” Bridget said, neck craning.

  They glanced skyward to see a cloud near the rock ceiling, lit orange by braziers. Rope bridges crisscrossed rickety-looking platforms.

  “You should see the secret dungeons,” said an amused voice from their left. They turned to see a gray-robed middle-aged man standing amongst a stall brimming with wooden practice swords, staves, body padding, and all sort of other training equipment. “If you’re looking for a fright, that is, but we’re not supposed to talk about it.” He was bald with dark amber skin and an infectious smile.

  “Never been here before,” Leera said in wondrous tones.