Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  “All right, let us do some training! Now, who would like to demonstrate how to properly summon a walker? How about … The Hood!”

  The necrophytes all clapped and made an alley, but Augum did not step forward. He had to think fast.

  “Uh, I’m sorry, sir, but I hurt my wrist today at the arena.” Augum made a show of rubbing his wrist while Leera pointed to it, making exaggerated apologetic gestures. Augum thought it was overkill but luckily the commander nodded.

  “Of course, I understand. We need you in top form tomorrow to face that Tiberran brat, to show the Tiberrans the might of the Legion, and to have them bend the knee not only on the battle field, but on the arena floor as well.”

  The crowd snickered and clapped as Augum mouthed “Tiberran brat?” at Leera. She only shrugged. For once, he looked forward to hearing a report from Malaika and Charissa on who he was facing next.

  “I’ll do it,” Robin said, jumping onto the platform, slicking back his hair, pinched face glowing. “Where’s the body?”

  “Death is a natural part of life. We want you to be comfortable with death. Allow it to be a friend, not an enemy. Some of you have already taken life—”

  Robin folded his arms and sneered while giving a proud nod.

  “—others have yet to experience the honor of their first kill. A true necromancer will be as familiar with death as they are with their own rings. Look forward to that moment, for it is truly special. You must be cold. You must be pitiless. For that is how you conquer death.”

  The necrophytes clapped politely while bumps rose on Augum’s arms. Oh no, they were planning on killing someone on that platform!

  “I know you are excited, but we will not be taking a life today—” The crowd made a disappointed aww sound, and the commander raised a hand. “But rest assured, as we become more organized, every necrophyte will have ample opportunity to harden themselves and show their commitment to the Legion.”

  The necrophytes again clapped, some even whistling.

  Augum glanced at the girls. Both looked pale. He subtly looked around at the crowd, noting the fervor on many of the faces, the absolute zeal and belief in the Legion. But he also spotted more than one anxious face. A young girl with olive skin and clumpy hair sniffed into her sleeve. A boy near her, maybe her brother, swallowed hard, and seemed to want to comfort her but was probably afraid of being called out as weak or afraid.

  Augum felt terrible for them and couldn’t imagine what they must be feeling. What were the odds of stopping the Legion before these young people were forced to do something that would haunt them forever? Every day that passed caused so much harm. How much of it was irreversible?

  “We happen to have brought a few traitors who have not survived questioning.” Commander Jordan opened his palm to an area behind the platform, and a wrapped-up body soon lifted into view, landing on the planks. The commander turned back to the assembled crowd. “Now let us go through the proper way to quickly and efficiently raise a walker.

  The trio kept their gazes averted as Robin performed the ghastly ritual, transforming the body into a walker. Instead, Augum watched that unfortunate boy and girl as they obviously squirmed. When they tried to look away, the Legionnaire with the shaved head noticed, and stood close, glaring at them. The pair stiffened and watched the spectacle with wide eyes and colorless faces.

  Augum felt his nails dig into his palms. This was indoctrination of the first order. This was how they won the young. It had to be stopped.

  The commander thanked Robin as the crowd clapped, then proceeded to lecture them on the finer points of walker summoning. After every topic he would make a speech about the glory of the Legion and how important they all were and blah, blah, blah. The clapping tended to last longer than it should, and was usually followed by three successive chants of “Hail the Legion!” It was tedious and repetitive and eventually made Augum’s eyes glaze over.

  “Ugh, how much more of this do we have to put up with?” Leera whispered into his ear during the umpteenth clapping round. Although it was sort of interesting to see how they bullied and brainwashed necrophytes into obedience, he hoped it would end soon. They had things to do, namely to train on their own somewhere away from prying eyes, somewhere like … he craned his neck at the ceiling sky bridges … somewhere like up there.

  Commander Jordan ended up going through a bunch of rudimentary necromancer spells, spending no time at all on standard spellcraft. He jabbered on about Feign Death, Rot, Pestilence, Ghost Light, and various other minor spells, like Raise Animal, which was supposed to be great practice for raising people. The trio wasted almost two hours listening to him, with no way to excuse themselves, until at last the man allowed them to go off on their own to train for the evening, as he had duties to attend to.

  Augum tried to creep away with the girls but was immediately stopped by a gaggle of necrophytes, all his age or younger, and all trying to peek into his hood. Nearby hovered Robin and Temper, further complicating the situation. Robin seemed to enjoy the attention, making extravagant gestures and telling everyone how he was going to be the winner of his degree. He flashed superior looks toward Augum, who had to be very careful to keep his head averted and speak very little.

  There was a barrage of questions.

  “Can you teach me how to get a strong Push spell like that?”

  “What’s it feel like to compete in the arena?”

  “How are you only fifteen yet already at the 4th degree?”

  “How come you haven’t cast any necromancy spells yet? Saving them for the finals against Robin?”

  “He must be really good then.”

  Augum got away with nods or grunts mostly. When he did reply, it was in a whisper and with one-word answers. When the crowd saw he was no fun, they migrated to Robin, who took particular pleasure in seeing himself as the more popular one.

  Augum, meanwhile, skulked away with the girls, each breathing a massive sigh of relief when they finally got completely clear.

  “That was disturbing on so many levels,” Bridget whispered from behind her sleeve.

  “That brainwashing though,” Leera said with a shake of her head. “See the looks on their faces? They worship that fiendish commander.”

  Augum recalled the unfortunate boy and girl. “Not all of them, thankfully.” But still far too many.

  “Not to mention they’re openly talking about conquering cities now,” Bridget added. “Nodia’s next. Then who knows what kingdom.”

  “Probably all of them.” Leera cleared her throat in warning and they fell silent. A group of giggling necrophyte girls crossed their path, on their way to the pond leaf obstacle course. “Ugh, the Legion sure love making boring speeches,” Leera muttered when they had gone.

  Bridget pretended to scratch her nose as she spoke. “Those communication rings they’re going to give out just made necrophytes infinitely more dangerous.”

  “Sure, they’ll be dangerous,” Augum said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve to hide what he was saying as there were way too many necrophytes milling about still, “but they’ll also have a weakness—their commanding officers. Take them out, or steal the orbs, and they’ll be like chickens running around with their heads cut off. You can even misdirect them or something.”

  “Except these chickens can still raise the dead,” Leera added. “And that’s not a bad idea—maybe we can steal an orb or two and a set of matching rings.”

  Bridget pretended to cough. “Agreed. Let’s send a message right now to meet Klines, see if she can somehow get us a set.”

  They exited the Training Room and ported to the entrance hall, where Bridget left a message with an attendant at the front desk.

  “What did you say to Klines?” Augum asked as he led them back after.

  “Too dangerous to say anything specific,” Bridge replied. “Just told her to find us as soon as she could, and that we’d be in the Training Room until the eighth bell. Then we’ll be in the Supper Hall—”<
br />
  “—meeting Malaika and Charissa,” Leera said. “Always a treat.”

  They soon returned to the stand presided over by the bald attendant, who was waving at a small warlock boy after fitting him with a bulky set of training pads that made him look like a giant bale of hay.

  “Hello again. Can you tell us how to get up there?”

  The man followed Augum’s gaze skyward. “Up there? You’ll just have to figure that out, won’t you?” His crow’s feet crinkled as he smiled warmly.

  “Right, the no hints thing.”

  The man only nodded. Something about his smile gave Augum the impression he was happy to see the Legion commander gone from his training grounds.

  “Toll to pass.”

  “Excuse me?” Augum said.

  The man kept his kind smile. “Earlier you came to a Legion meeting, but now you come to train. Toll to pass, I am afraid.”

  “Right.” Bridget dug around and withdrew three silver coins.

  “Good luck,” the attendant said, accepting them.

  The trio sauntered off, keeping a look out for other necrophytes, trying not to get too close. Everyone was diligently training, seemingly inspired by the commander’s speeches.

  “Imagine losing your element to necromancy,” Leera said, watching a necrophyte practice making himself look undead in the wheat field. She shuddered. “So unnatural. I wonder how many of them would rather keep training in their chosen element.”

  “Hopefully a great many,” Augum said, trying to imagine a way to build a secret resistance across the entire kingdom using those special Dreadnought rings.

  They casually poked around the various obstacles and scenes, looking for a way to get up to the sky bridges, but then another obstacle course became free—the miniature mountains in a corner of the great cavern. The trio made their way over and climbed them, taking note of the various charred and beaten boulders; the tiny stream—

  “What are you looking at, Bridge?” Leera asked as she started her spell casting warm up routine. “Bridge—?”

  “Hmm?” Bridget was frowning at the stream. She tapped her chin. “Where do you suppose that goes?”

  Leera shrugged. “Who knows, probably the sewer—” She froze. “Oh.”

  Augum saw where the stream ended—in a hole in the wall. “We can’t fit through there.” It reminded him of the cave below Bahbell, and how unnervingly tight some of its squeezes were.

  “Maybe not through there, but …” Bridget scanned the cavern. “What about that?” She nodded at a waterfall that started up high at the sky bridges and ended with a constant roar into a small pool.

  “Where does the water go though?” Augum asked.

  Leera flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s what we’re saying. Let’s find out.”

  They went over to investigate.

  Augum placed his hand in the crystal-clear pool. The water was surprisingly warm. He could see the rocky bottom, but no exit point for the water. “Maybe it’s arcane. Maybe somehow it cycles the water back up top using a spell of some kind—”

  “I’m not so sure.” Bridget approached the waterfall from the side, placing a hand on the slick rock wall to stabilize herself. The roar was immense, and the wind that got whipped up from the falling water sent her hair and necrophyte robe fluttering. She poked her head into the waterfall, getting soaked in the process, before jumping out and jogging over.

  “Just like I thought,” she said, wringing out her hair. “There’s a river behind the waterfall. It flows away into darkness.”

  “The water’s warm enough that we could swim it,” Augum said.

  Leera tested the water and nodded. “That would bypass Watts and her stupid guards. I say we risk it. But we come back after supper just before the place closes.”

  “What do we do about the attendant though?” Bridget asked. “He’ll know we haven’t exited. Might send guards searching.”

  “Leave that to me,” Augum said. He’d already been thinking about that part, and had some ideas.

  They returned to the mountain scene and began training, this time surreptitiously focusing on the Reflect spell. Bridget was adamant they work on it, convinced it could save their lives at a crucial moment.

  “I don’t get the big deal!” Leera yelled after again failing to reflect Augum’s Deafness casting.

  Bridget waved at her. “Shh! You’re yelling—”

  “What—!”

  Bridget made the gesture for her to tone it down, indicating at her ears.

  “Oh, right. Sorry. But I don’t get why this is such an important spell. We can only successfully cast it once a day anyway.”

  Bridget pointed at her mouth, over-annunciating the words. “Just keep trying.”

  Leera swatted at the air. “Bah.”

  They continued training—at long last, after the place had mostly cleared of people, and as they were expecting the cry that the eighth bell had rung, Augum finally managed to reflect Bridget’s purposefully weakened First Offensive back at her. She was so stunned by the maneuver she only gaped as her own vine smacked her in the stomach, doubling her over. He pumped his fist, which clutched the crystal he had used in the process.

  Bridget, who had already cast the spell successfully near the start of their session, picked herself off the ground, smiling proudly. “Well done. Remember exactly what you did there and how it felt. Now it’s Leera’s turn to succeed next.”

  “Maybe if it wasn’t near impossible,” Leera muttered.

  They kept training, focusing on Leera, until the cry of the eighth bell. Then they hurried to the Supper Hall. As they turned a corner, a short and shadowy figure called out from behind a gargoyle statue.

  “Who’s there?” Augum asked.

  The stunted figure stepped forward.

  “Oh, hello, Secretary Klines.”

  The beetle-like woman looked around before hissing, “You ought not to send for me anymore, it’s too risky.”

  “Yes, sorry, but we need your help with something non-library related,” and Augum and Bridget took turns quickly explaining all about the new speaking orb sets they were giving out to necrophytes and their commanders.

  Klines’ giant eyes narrowed. “You want me to steal a set for you?”

  “Yes, exactly—”

  “You are out of your minds,” and she began striding away.

  Augum took one step after her. “Secretary Klines—please, it’s really important. For the Resistance …”

  Klines stopped, took a breath. “I promise nothing,” and strode off.

  “Well, that’s a shame,” Leera said.

  Bridget frowned. “Come on, let’s eat.”

  A Winding River

  The trio met Malaika and Charissa in the Supper Hall, receiving the latest news about the tournament.

  “Tomorrow you’re going to face last year’s 3rd degree champion,” Malaika said as they hurried to finish their meals.

  “Some sixteen-year-old Tiberran girl,” Charissa added, mashing her last potato in her bowl. “Her name is …” She gave a vague glance at Malaika. “Um, I forget.”

  “Caireen Lavo.”

  “Oh, right. Anyway, apparently her town was razed by the Legion.”

  Then we have something in common, Augum thought.

  Malaika was nodding along. “They mocked her victories, but there’s revenge in those wild eyes of hers.”

  “What did she fight like?” Leera asked, shoving aside her lumpy soup and muttering, “Broccoli. Gross.”

  “We actually didn’t see her fight.”

  “We went shopping!” Charissa added proudly while Malaika tried shushing her with a meaningful look. “I got myself a nice new pretty dress—”

  Leera gaped. “You went shopping.”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s what I just said—”

  Leera rubbed her forehead with both hands and sighed heavily. “They went shopping.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Ugh, what’s the
point?”

  Bridget leaned forward. “Malaika, Charissa, I know you two can do better. Please, help us.”

  Malaika’s eyes flicked to Augum before dropping. “Sorry. We’ll … we’ll try.”

  Bridget nodded. “All right then. I’m sure you’ll work harder next time. Anything about the Legion?”

  “Nothing you don’t know,” Malaika replied. “Except more rumors of war soon. Though we overheard two commanders talking about some kind of strange disturbance in Bahbell they’re ‘officially not supposed to acknowledge’, whatever that meant. Had to do with soldiers moving about on their own.”

  Augum exchanged a look with Bridget and Leera. Had his father found a way to use Occulus’ ancient army without the Agonex?

  “Oh, and I received word from Father,” Malaika went on in a singsong voice.

  “You wrote to him?” Leera hissed.

  Malaika’s face was indignant. “Of course I did! And I already told you I left him a proper note before stealing away with the lot of you—”

  “You wrote to him from here though.”

  “Obviously—”

  “And he wrote you back. Here.”

  “Uh, yes. Where else would he send the letter?” Malaika gave Charissa a look saying Is she slow or what? before returning her attention to the trio. “He knows we’re here to help you in your quest—and I have to admit, we’re doing a wonderful job, aren’t we?”

  Leera’s mouth hung open.

  “Anyway, you’ll be glad to know we shall have horses at the ready at the stables on the south side of town, anytime we need them.” Malaika gave a satisfied nod. “Father will arrange everything.”

  Leera’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, daddy will arrange everything. Well that’s wonderful. I guess everyone can soon go home all happy and safe.”

  “I do not appreciate your tone.”

  “She doesn’t appreciate my tone,” Leera said to Augum, before dropping her voice even lower as she leaned toward Malaika. “Did you, on the off chance, ever stop to think what would happen if your correspondence was intercepted?”

  “What does intercepted mean?” Charissa whispered.