Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  “Wait, what do you mean by ‘killing off the elements’?” Augum asked.

  Basil listened for a moment and they could hear the attendant gossiping with her guards. “They have a plan with you young ones—do you know what happens when you study necromancy from the beginning, and then pass the Torment Trial at the 5th degree?”

  “Torment Trial? What’s that?”

  Basil the carver gave them an odd look. “You should know what it is, supposedly being necrophytes and all—anyhow, if you pass, you graduate from a necrophyte to a full-fledged necromancer. You know how right now warlocks have all kinds of rings? Once you become a necromancer, you stop learning your natural element. You become corrupted and the like, and your rings … they turn black. I know because I read about it, you see. You haven’t seen any true ‘born-from-the-cradle’ necromancers yet because none of them have been studying necromancy that long, and not from the beginning. But you’ll probably see one eventually if things go the way they’re going, you mark my words. Probably see a great many of them, young and old alike. That academy has been corrupted. Turned into a mill that pumps them kids out all brainwashed and the like.”

  Bridget’s gaze lingered on a nearby brazier. “That’s perfectly horrible. I can’t imagine a kingdom without any fire or earth or lightning degrees.”

  “Or healing,” Basil said, wiping his hands. “All of it’ll be gone, that’s right, that’s the plan. Corrupt the youth, turn them into slaves of the dark arts of necromancy. I know, it’s crackpot talk, but I believe it, I do. In any case, you didn’t hear any of this from me, did you?”

  “No, sir,” Bridget replied quietly.

  “If you want to be one of the last to experience the old traditions of the library, then you’ll have to take your chances now, before they seal it up for good. They’re finding them all, one by one.” He nodded again in the direction of the secret passageway. “Can’t get in that way no more, for example. The Legion done sealed up all the easy ones. Real tough getting to the good parts of the library. Real tough if you want to see down below.”

  “So how do we get in?” Augum whispered.

  The man grinned. “In the tradition of the library’s builders, I’m not supposed to give you a hint of that kind.”

  Secretary Klines didn’t want to give them hints either.

  Basil twirled his cloth. “But tell you what, because the Legion done made the Labyrinth inaccessible, I don’t see why you can’t get one little hint, just to make things a bit fair and all. They’ve sealed off the secret doors they know of by using the Unconceal spell, but they missed one really well-hidden one, one that only becomes accessible after the ninth toll of the evening bell, one that takes curiosity to find and cannot be revealed by any ordinary spell. Now listen close, for your hint is in the form of a riddle—tap into a part of ancestry.”

  “Tap into a part of ancestry,” the trio mumbled back.

  Great, Augum was thinking—he wasn’t particularly skilled at riddles. Tap into ancestry? Oh no—that meant doing a ton more research. And whose ancestry? There were so many great historical figures. He almost groaned.

  “By the looks on your faces I’d say you might be thinking of literature. Well, you’re in a library, it’s got to be literal, ain’t it?” He chortled. “You’ll enjoy that one later,” he muttered in afterthought, before growing serious. “But be warned—the Legion dumped a bunch of walkers and stuff down there as guards, mostly the experiments that didn’t quite bear fruit, if you get my meaning. Some of them be twisted and the like, so it’s dangerous—sometimes very dangerous. If you make it down there even.”

  The trio exchanged looks.

  “And then there are the ancient library puzzles,” Basil continued as he returned to chiseling. “Puzzles which, depending on what section you’ll be trying to access, will give you quite the challenge—some of them are deadly though, so don’t try any section above your skill level. Traditionally, those that you did beat gained you entry in the form of higher portal access and initiate rank increases. But as you probably guessed by now, the Legion done locked all that out too, to prevent warlocks from accessing the restricted books and stuff. Oh, and be warned—the Legion patrol the hallways after hours. No one unauthorized is supposed to be roaming about, so you’ll have to be clever. How well do you work together?”

  “Pretty well,” Leera said with a smile.

  “Good, because there’s no help down there. If you get in trouble, you’ll be on your own. Warlocks have gone down there never to be seen again. Sometimes, giggling groups of young ‘uns just like yourselves. Understand?”

  The trio nodded.

  “You better, because it’s serious down there, especially these dark days. Now you best run off before Watts comes back. Good luck.”

  “Thank you … for everything,” Augum replied, and the trio left, each mulling the riddle over in their mind.

  First Match

  The trio hurried back to the room to meet with Malaika and Charissa. Unfortunately, they had very little time before the noon gong, when Augum was supposed to sign in by for his first duel. Thankfully, Malaika and Charissa were already waiting for them. They were perched on the window ledge, watching the city, and sprang off when the trio entered.

  “Can we talk while we walk?” Bridget said breathlessly. “Augum has to sign in for his duel really soon.”

  Malaika flashed a cheery smile at Augum. “Of course! We were going to go see him anyhow.”

  The five of them set off through the bustling streets, exchanging stories of what they had been up to, particularly the riddle, which neither Malaika or Charissa could make sense of.

  “I’d delve into the ancestry of the founder of the library,” Malaika offered, which actually made sense to Augum, and narrowed what they had to look for.

  “Or it could be the ancestry of the Lord of the Legion,” Charissa added, giving a withered beggar a revolted look.

  “But that’s silly,” Leera said, “because then he’d be looking into his own family’s history.”

  “Oh, guess so. Never mind then.”

  Malaika flashed a cheery smile at Augum. “Anyway, Augum—”

  Leera suddenly made a hissing noise much like a viper and Malaika realized her mistake—she had accidentally used Augum’s real name. Luckily, no one in the busy crowd had noticed. Leera held a single finger in warning at her, eyes dangerous slits. Malaika edged away from her.

  “Let’s grab a quick lunch,” Bridget said, finding a stall with Antioc street food, consisting of boar meat, soggy leeks and bread. But at least it was hot food, which they ate as they walked.

  “So about Robin,” Malaika said a little quieter. “They still say he’s the favorite by far, but we couldn’t see his match because it started right before we were supposed to meet you. But we did learn about your opponent, Alejandra ‘Annihilator’ Ramirez. We asked the gamblers about her, who seem to know everyone’s weaknesses and strengths.”

  Bridget’s brows rose. “That’s clever.”

  Malaika gave her a patronizing look before babbling on. “They said she’s quick on her feet and throws a heck of a First Offensive, whatever that means.”

  “What element is she?” Bridget pressed.

  “Earth.”

  “And she’s sixteen years old,” Charissa threw in.

  “That means it’ll be similar attacks to mine, Aug—vine. Remember that. And don’t forget—you can’t use Centarro at all in case Robin is watching, because he’ll instantly know it’s you.”

  He was nodding, trying to ignore the nervous buzzing in his stomach.

  “You’ll recognize her by the flowers in her hair,” Malaika droned on. “They also said she hasn’t trained as hard with Mind Armor as some of the other combatants. I suppose Mind Armor is some kind of mental—”

  “Hit her with Fear or Confusion straight away then,” Leera interrupted, punching at the air. “And it doesn’t matter that she’s older. Your spellcraft strength is s
till probably going to be way higher than hers, especially if she’s undertrained.”

  “Why is that?” Charissa asked.

  “Because he’s been training in the field.”

  “Field? As in, a farming field?”

  Leera gave her a look before shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Never mind.”

  Malaika said a bunch of other stuff about Augum’s opponent, but by then Augum had stopped listening because the thunderous sound of the crowd reached his ears and all he could think about was standing before that chanting throng, making a total fool of himself, or worse … being found out.

  All four of the girls rambled on with assorted advice, yet all he could do was nod stupidly, until Leera noticed the look on his face and told them to quiet down and give him time to mentally prepare.

  They soon reached the arena, paid again, and strode to the registration desk. Augum was promptly signed in and told to go to the dressing rooms.

  “All right, good luck,” Malaika said, trying to reach for his hand only to have her arm smacked away by a glaring Leera. Malaika flashed her a hateful look before smiling sweetly at Augum, “We’ll be watching and rooting for you in the stands. A thousand good lucks!”

  Bridget gave him a hug. “You’ll do fine. Remember that she’ll attack with vine. Pivot when you can, use Shield and—”

  “Enough,” Leera said. “You’re overdoing it.”

  “Right. Good luck.”

  Leera hugged him close and gave him a secret peck on the cheek. “Show her what you’re made of.”

  Augum was in a daze as he made his way to the dressing rooms under the arena. The place stank of sweat and burning oil. Old hooded lanterns flicked against roughly-hewn rock walls. Dust fell from the ceiling as the crowd chanted, “LO-SERS SHALL! BEND THE KNEE! WI-NNERS FIND! ETER-NI-TY!”

  Suddenly he heard a familiar voice that instantly made him curl his fists.

  “No, but did you see the way I threw him against the wall?” Robin Scarson gloated. He was striding Augum’s way, a towel around his neck. Bouncing on his chest was the Destiny Stone, clasped in a claw setting. Temper was beside him, a smug look on her face, head surrounded by a halo of curly red hair.

  “You’re going to win this competition, Robbie, I know it,” she cooed.

  Augum strode by, head down, trying to resist the urge to punch his face in. To them, he must have looked like just another necrophyte because they walked right by without noticing. Too bad he’d missed Robin’s first match. Would have been smart to see him fight. He resolved to watch his duel tomorrow instead.

  “Of course I’m going to win, have you any doubt?” Robin’s voice echoed and died off as they disappeared down the tunnel.

  Augum, blood still running quick from the close encounter, soon arrived at a dingy room with rows of well-worn trestle benches, on which sat various combatants, almost all older than him. The foreign fighters seemed to wear extravagant garb, while the necrophytes, who were forced to wear necrophyte robes, made up for it by having different colored hair, or even having their faces painted. One necrophyte girl near his age had long blue hair and was practicing incantations by herself in a corner. There was an older olive-skinned boy with almond eyes and snow-white hair making gestures at a scuffed wall. He wore a colorfully embroidered robe and a foreign crest Augum did not recognize.

  But among all of the combatants, the one that drew his attention was his adversary— Alejandra ‘Annihilator’ Ramirez. He knew it was her because of the flowers in her long black hair. The sixteen-year-old had amber skin, green eyes and a round face, and wore a beautifully embroidered velvet robe depicting exotic flowers. She was murmuring to herself and pacing. Her hands were shaking slightly. Augum wondered if this was her first tournament as well.

  A slender cocoa-skinned woman with a plaited ponytail and gray robe was referencing a parchment scroll and looking around the room. She spotted him and said, “Augustus Westwood?”

  He nodded, careful to keep his face hidden within his hood.

  “I figured it’s you because of the hood. I’m Secretary Sharma. Have a seat please.” She checked off her parchment, muttering, “The Hood. Excellent.”

  Alejandra, his opponent, immediately stopped what she was doing to stare at him. She nervously rubbed her hands together before returning to murmuring spells under her breath. Everyone seemed to be doing the same, filling the room with an unintelligible buzz. Augum did not want to tip his hand with what spells he knew, and thus went over everything in his mind. Or at least he tried—it was difficult concentrating, what with the stomping and chanting above shaking the walls, and the occasional sudden roar of the crowd as a combatant fell or scored a hit.

  Secretary Sharma called name after name. New opponents wandered in as old ones left. Augum had mentally gone through all his spells three times before she suddenly called out his and his opponent’s names. They were paired side-by-side and escorted down to the end of a long exit hall, which opened into the arena. The roar of the crowd suddenly sounded louder than a thunderstorm. The announcer, Lucca Giovanni, finished interviewing the last combatants in a smooth booming voice, then sent them on their way to polite applause.

  “And now we move on to a 4th degree qualifying round match-up. Hailing from the Canterran capital and the Academy of Iron … she may look pretty but she can move mountains … introducing … a sixteen-year-old earth element warlock going by the name of … Alejandra ‘Annihilator’ Ramirez …!”

  Alejandra gave Augum a sidelong look before jogging out into the arena, hair bouncing. The crowd, which at first began booing the foreigner, changed to mixed applause, perhaps after seeing her colorful attire.

  “Her opponent, hailing from the obscure Solian village of Everscale, a younger necrophyte of fifteen practicing the always dangerous lightning element … the mysterious … the reclusive … Augustus ‘The Hood’ Westwooooood!”

  Secretary Sharma gave him a push and Augum strode out. The crowd was cheering wildly, the noise deafening. Augum stole a glance at the judge’s podium. Erika and library Head Examiner Vulica Vaneek were clapping, while the Canterran judge, Martus the Black, looked on with a dissatisfied scowl.

  Augum frantically searched for Bridget and Leera, but was unable to see anything except a dizzying sea of faces. He stopped near Giovanni, whose glimmering robe was blinding up close. The man stank like some kind of pungent weed, making it even harder to concentrate. He was already giving final instructions while attendants wheeled in six wooden stands, each with a small assortment of wooden practice weapons. “… no biting, no eye-gouging, and no artifacts. Don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to touch your throats now so your voices may be amplified.”

  Both Augum and his opponent flinched at the man’s hot touch.

  “Quick and painless,” Giovanni said in a kind voice so quiet and different than his loud one. “I know you’re nervous, and that’s normal. Fight fair, fight clean and fight well. Good luck to both of you. Now nod that you each understand the rules.”

  Augum nodded reflexively, barely able to hear past the blood rushing through his ears, past the roar of the stands. His palms were super sweaty and he needed to breathe; everything was moving too quickly. Meanwhile, the crowd chanted, “LO-SERS SHALL! BEND THE KNEE! WI-NNERS FIND! ETER-NI-TY!” to the deep pounding of the drum.

  “Now in the ancient tradition of arcane honor … combatants, show your stripes and bow to your opponent!”

  Augum was so nervous he could barely get his rings to flare. Then he almost forgot to bow.

  Giovanni took a step back and gestured theatrically at Alejandra. “Are you ready?”

  She got into battle stance and nodded, the crowd beginning to holler.

  Giovanni swung his arms the other way at Augum. “And are you ready …?”

  Augum swallowed and hesitantly nodded.

  Giovanni chopped at the air. “Fight!” and the bell rang.

  Alejandra immediately shoved at the air before her, voice ar
canely amplified. “BAKA!”

  Augum, feeling completely overwhelmed and unprepared, was instantly sent flying, much to the chagrin of the crowd. He tumbled through the dirt as his hood flew off his head.

  “That’s one-nothing for the Annihilator!”

  Augum scrambled to raise his hood, hearing, “ANNIHILO!” and instinctually rolled away, only to see a vine slam into the earth near him, sending a spider pattern of cracks from the point of impact.

  Seeing that made it all so very real. His fighting instincts, the ones he had used many times over in many battles, instantly kicked in—he summoned his shield, curled with hard black lightning, and effortlessly blocked Alejandra’s next vine attack. Of all the spells, this is the one he had probably practiced most, seeing as he already had some shield training with Sir Westwood. The Shield spell was becoming like Shine—an extension of him. He was so good with it now he was able to keep it cast before him as he marched toward his opponent, who was backing up.

  “Look at him firmly hold that spell!” Giovanni was saying as the crowd roared its approval. But Augum was focused only on one thing—his opponent, who finally shouted, “DISABLO!” and Augum’s arcane shield was yanked from his arm, disappearing instantly. That surprised him, for no one had done that before.

  Giovanni was gesticulating wildly in the background. “Yet his inexperience is clearly showing because The Hood has yet to unleash a single attack—”

  Alejandra used Augum’s hesitation to raise an arm, shouting, “Dreadus terrablus!”

  But Augum, well-prepared for the tingling that the Fear spell triggers, blocked it with his Mind Armor, immediately countering by slamming his fists together and shouting, “ANNIHILO!” The spell—the word itself amplified arcanely to thunder through the arena—felt even more powerful than usual—except he changed his aim at the last moment. A crackling bolt of lightning connected with the ground at her feet, instantly blowing a deep hole in the earth and making her yelp. One of the flowers in her hair loosened and fell to the ground as she stumbled.