Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  “We could definitely use that to our advantage,” Bridget said, a comb gripped between her teeth while she fixed Leera’s hair, which was unusually tangled. Bridget had been quite energetic since she got up, smiling and talking more in the last hour than Augum remembered her doing so in a tenday, all courtesy of having slept well for a change.

  Leera, still a bit pale from the night before, winced from a hard jerk of her hair. “We’d need something big to make him angry. Like, really big.”

  Augum finished washing his hands in the washbasin and sat down on the bed across them, placing his chin on his fingertips. “I have … an idea. But don’t immediately jump down my throat about it, all right?”

  “Oh no,” Leera muttered. “Ouch, Bridge—!”

  “Sorry! Hold still, would you? It’s like an owl’s nest back here.”

  “Anyway,” Augum went on, choosing his words carefully. “I think I know how to make my father angry enough to lose focus, enough to help even the odds a little bit in a major battle. But we’d have to tell him at the right moment.”

  “You going to say it or tip-toe around it all day?” Leera said.

  Augum hesitated. “We rescue my mother’s body from the Black Castle.”

  The comb fell from Bridget’s mouth as the girls gaped at him.

  “I know, I know, it’s crazy—”

  “Crazy?” Leera raised a finger to make some other point, but instead scoffed. “Ugh, crazy. Yeah, it’s crazy all right. I’m not interested in suicide.”

  “No, but, wait—I can finally give my mother a proper funeral. It’s what she wanted. There’s a locket and stuff too, um, and we don’t have to do anything stupid, we just have to be smart about it. All we need is a way to covertly get in the Black Castle.”

  Bridget picked up the comb and accented what she said with it. “Augum Stone you have completely. Lost. Your. Mind. The Black Castle is probably even more arcanely protected than Castle Arinthian. It’s the lion’s den—”

  “Look, I’ve been thinking it through. Trust me, after what I read, I know it would utterly—” Augum made a loopy gesture at his head here, “—unhinge him.”

  Leera made the same gesture, but in a mocking way. “Oh, unhinge him? Unhinge him. Not you? You’re not unhinged at all? Are the stairs not reaching the top floor here? Did the wraith chuck your brain into the abyss when you weren’t looking? Nuttier than a squirrel turd, you are.”

  “Just … just imagine us with an Agonex Dreadnought-equipped army at our back, using Cron or whatever at the same time—”

  “NO, AUGUM!” the girls chorused.

  “I mean, I know it’s a gamble, and it sounds completely and utterly mad, I get that, but it’s what we need to do—take the fight to the enemy and all that, like a smart general would.”

  Their eyes narrowed simultaneously.

  He raised his palms. “All right, all right,” muttering, “just think about it then,” before quickly moving on. “Anyway, uh, what did you learn about the Agonex?”

  The girls switched places as Bridget told them what she learned, which turned out to be a lot. There were challenges ahead, most notably tuning to the artifact, which apparently took quite some time. Then, once tuned, the controller had to somehow mentally defeat the undead commander in charge of the Agonex army. Bend him to his will or whatever. Augum imagined this commander standing amongst his troops in the deep darkness of Bahbell, one of the many faceless undead.

  “The artifact is Teleport-infused,” Bridget explained as Leera fixed her hair, face cross with concentration. “Which means it can teleport an entire company all at once. I forget how many soldiers a company is, but—”

  “Two hundred,” Augum said, chin resting on his hands as he sat cross-legged on the bed.

  “Right. And we think there are tens of thousands of them. Now, how many companies can be teleported in a day is apparently dependent on the skill of the possessor of the artifact, or at least that’s what the history book says. Speaking of which, the history of the Agonex is simply fascinating—”

  Leera gave Augum a Kill me look. Bridget had been rambling for a while now.

  “—for example, did you know the Agonex was forged with all the souls of those soldiers? And did you know they volunteered for it? Yeah, Occulus told them they’d be immortal. Sound familiar? The poor things were duped. Killed in sacrifice and risen as the undead. Anyway it’s important to know because you can’t add more soldiers to the army—” Bridget made a snatching gesture, “—but you can take them away, like when they fall in the battlefield. Once a soldier is destroyed, he can’t be risen again. The army is destined to be whittled down to nothing in combat. So if—and that’s a big if as the artifact has layers of complexity—we somehow get control of the Agonex, we’ll have to use it very carefully and time our strikes, not only because it doesn’t replenish, but because we probably won’t be able to teleport more than a company at a time. And the army is so large still because it wasn’t used to full effect—scion-endowed warlocks took the fight to Occulus before he could conquer all of Sithesia. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Huh.” The whole thing seemed rather convoluted to Augum.

  “Oh and guess what happens to your brain if you enter into a mental battle with the commander and lose?”

  “Your brain melts?” Leera said in a deadpan voice, comb between her teeth.

  “Actually, yes. No, seriously, it actually melts. That’s what the text says.”

  Leera made a face. “My brain is melting right now. Can we hurry this along and get some food? I’m starving.”

  “This is important stuff, Lee—”

  “Of course it is, but—” Leera stepped before Bridget. “You know, priorities!” She pointed at her stomach with the comb. “Do you hear that pathetic tiny crying? Hear that? That’s my poor tummy squealing and pleading for mercy. It’s saying, ‘I surrender, gods, I surrender, aaaaah!’—”

  Bridget snorted a laugh and smacked Leera’s wildly gesticulating arm with the back of her hand. “Oh, hush already. We’ll go after we work on Augum.” She shook her head, muttering, “Water warlock. Pfft. Should have been an actor. Ridiculous …”

  After the girls finished applying their makeup tricks on Augum, the trio raised their hoods and joined Malaika and Charissa in the bustling Supper Hall for their daily midday meeting.

  “Like a necrophyte beehive in here,” Leera muttered, grabbing a tray full of food after Augum. Semi-finals were happening today and every necrophyte who was from out of town seemed to be congregating in there for lunch.

  Augum kept his head low, painfully conscious of many eyes on him. Whispers about The Hood abounded.

  “You’re in the Herald again,” Malaika proudly said to him after the trio joined them at a table in a corner. “Want to hear what they’re saying about you?”

  “No thank you. Any news?”

  Malaika’s face fell.

  “Robin’s dueling soon,” Charissa said.

  Augum dug into his gravy and potatoes, famished. “Right, we need to watch that fight.”

  “We also need to discuss our exit strategy,” Bridget said in a whisper, mindful of nearby necrophytes, who would glance over now and then.

  Malaika was curling her hair around her finger. “I told you, we have horses any time we need them at the edge of town.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable with that,” Bridget said. “We need to talk to Senior Arcaneologist Lien Ning about a safer way out, that’s what Constable Clouds said—”

  “You worry too much.” Malaika exchanged a She’s such a goodie-goodie look with Charissa.

  Bridget’s voice dropped even lower. “And we also have to plan for tomorrow, Aug. You know about what.”

  He nodded. He was quickly losing his appetite even thinking about it. Tomorrow was the day. The crazy day. His plan, should it work, would bring the entire city down on them. Bridget was right, they needed an alternate escape plan, a safer one, and they needed to formulat
e one sooner than later. Above all, he hoped his gamble that Erika would possess the divining rod paid off. Of course, that all hinged on him beating his next two opponents …

  “He’s got a duel today,” Leera said, scarfing down a second apple tart. “Let him concentrate, will you?”

  Bridget raised a corner of the Antioc Herald. “Can I see this?”

  Charissa shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  Bridget dragged it over and began studying it with furrowed brows.

  “Oh did we tell you we went shopping yesterday!” Malaika said, her and Charissa giggling. “I bought this fabulous pink dress that will be ready today—”

  Charissa placed a hand on Malaika’s arm as she joined in. “And I bought a new blue one. The fashion for the nobles here is just divine—”

  “You two got any useful information for us about The Hood’s opponent?” Leera asked, waving her spoon around. “Or maybe about the Legion, you know, the kind of stuff you’re supposedly here for?”

  Malaika flashed her a hateful look. “Just because you have the fashion sensibilities of a blunt tool doesn’t mean—”

  “Leera, no—” Bridget caught Leera’s arm before she did something stupid, then promptly placed a hand over her own mouth, realizing she had used her real name.

  The trio glanced about but luckily none of the other tables had noticed in all the loud bustle.

  “Anyway,” Malaika went on in a supercilious tone, “to answer your oafish question, actually, yes, we do have some information. His opponent is named Caireen Lavo. She’s sixteen and from Tiberra. We get a sense she’s here for revenge. An honor kind of thing.”

  “You told us all this yesterday!” Leera said.

  “Yeah, well, she’s also really pretty, in a wild kind of way.”

  Leera spoke through gritted teeth. “We don’t care how pretty she is, we need to know how she fights—”

  “That’s because she’s prettier than you—”

  “Please stop playing games,” Bridget said in a weary voice, still holding onto Leera’s arm, which now had four watery rings circling it.

  Malaika smirked. “Oh, going to attack me?”

  “You keep talking nonsense and I’ll shove your bosom buddy through that pie hole of yours!”

  Charissa cringed. “How beastly …”

  “Can we please hear how she fights?” Augum asked impatiently.

  Malaika smiled at him. “Certainly. You’ll be interested to know she’s a lightning warlock, and her style is … well, she’s into using Shove—”

  “You mean Push,” Leera said.

  “Whatever. Anyway, she’s also really good with those—” She gestured at her temple, “—mind thingy spells.”

  Right, the only other lightning warlock in his tournament bracket! Augum had forgotten about that. This will be interesting …

  Charissa made a show of glancing around as if readying to impart a scandalous secret. “And as far as the Legion, we’ve got an exact count of how many guards there are, where they go—and, get this—what entrances and exits there are from the arena.”

  “That’s … that’s actually useful,” Bridget said. “Can you see if you can find out how tomorrow’s trophy ceremony is going to go? We need as much information as possible—”

  “Especially anything about Erika,” Augum chimed in.

  Malaika and Charissa nodded gravely.

  “We’ll be excellent spies, promise,” Malaika whispered. “You’ll see.”

  “We’re very good at it,” Charissa added, holding onto Malaika’s elbow.

  “Oh, before we forget,” Malaika said, “there was a woman who came looking for you in the morning.”

  Augum gestured at his eyes. “Did she have really pointed spectacles and look like a toad?”

  “And a really annoying voice? Yeah, that’s her.”

  “What did she want?” Leera asked.

  Malaika shrugged. “Just asked where you three were.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  The trio exchanged looks. Great, Watts was after them. What was it this time?

  Bridget suddenly spied something in the back of the Antioc Herald. “Listen to this. ‘Rumors abound of strange goings on in Bahbell. One particularly stubborn rumor—which the Antioc Herald unequivocally decries as false—is that the Lord of the Legion has been frustrated in certain endeavors in Bahbell. Legion authorities are refusing to comment on the subject, however, perhaps further inflaming gossip. Meanwhile, the search for the stolen Agonex and scion continues. The good citizens of Solia are asked to keep a wary eye out for the villainous Anna Atticus Stone and her young brainwashed cohorts, including Augum Stone, the Lord of the Legion’s own son. “The Great Quest lives on,” Commander Jordan has been quoted as saying, “and there shall be eternal glory and life bestowed upon any soul capturing Anna Stone or her insurgent gang.” Commander Jordan has declined to comment further, citing his eagerness to watch today’s tournament semi-finals. Word has it he will be recruiting some of this year’s crop of winners …’ ”

  Bridget stopped reading there. “We need to find out what’s going on in Bahbell. Someone’s got to know something around here.”

  “Hear ye, hear ye!” shouted a crier’s voice in the hall. “The first afternoon bell tolls!”

  “We should go soon if we want to catch Robin’s fight,” Malaika said.

  They finished lunch and cleaned up after themselves. Just as Augum turned away from the table, he bumped into a hulking boy. He looked up to see a wide neck and a gap-toothed smirk.

  “Ain’t going to weasel your way out of this again,” Brutus said.

  Nearby tables began to gape and people stopped eating.

  Brutus’ voice got louder. “This here’s The Hood, everyone. He caught me off-guard at the arena. Ain’t going to happen again though.”

  A hush fell over the hall.

  Whispers of “Fight!” began circling.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Augum said. He tried to get by but Brutus stepped in his way.

  Augum sighed. “Fine, you really want to do this here?”

  “You bet—” Brutus shot a hammy arm out, quickly saying, “Dreadus Terrablus!” but his Fear spell was the weakest Augum had faced—he barely had to give it any energy to block, and so was doubly fast on the reply.

  “BAKA!” Augum said as he shoved violently at the boy. Brutus was once again sent flying, slamming into a wall.

  Leera took a step forward. “Did … did you just knock him out a second time?”

  Laughter began in the hall as people realized what had happened.

  “Hood just knocked him out again!” a giddy necrophyte girl squealed nearby.

  Augum saw a gray-robed official hurrying in their direction.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Leera said, yanking on Augum’s sleeve. They scurried out of the hall amidst all the energetic chatter and clapping.

  Robin’s Semi-final

  “I’ll be glad to be out of here tomorrow,” Augum said as they quickly strode through the busy streets of Antioc. The sun shone from behind a bank of clouds, occasionally peeking through with its warm brilliance.

  “Too many close calls,” Bridget said.

  They soon arrived at the arena, which had a line trying to get in.

  “Oh, forget this, we’re not waiting,” Leera said, and began shoving through the crowd. “Contender here, move aside! Contender coming through, got a match to fight—”

  Surprisingly, people allowed them to pass, though Augum suspected it was more the necrophyte robes than anything else. The common folk had an obvious fear of necrophytes. It showed in the anxious looks they gave and how they quickly glanced away when noticed. More than once the trio had heard someone anonymously whisper, “Demon worshipers” in the bustling crowd, or “Brainwashed hellspawn.” It was good to hear there were secret pockets of resistance.

  Bridget rooted through her snakeskin pouch. “Slowly run
ning out of money.”

  “Need to borrow some?” Malaika asked, stopping and making a show of reaching into her pouch.

  “Actually, yes, thank you.”

  “You … you do?”

  “Just a few silver should get us by, yes.”

  “What, Father’s money wasn’t enough?”

  Bridget gave her a surprised look.

  “Fine, here.” Malaika thrust a handful of coin into Bridget’s hand. “There, happy?”

  Bridget sighed. “Thank you.”

  “We’ll find our own way in,” Charissa said with a smug smile, taking Malaika’s elbow and guiding her away.

  “Snobs,” Leera muttered, watching them go. “Did you really have to do that? We could have earned it.”

  “Don’t have the time.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  They paid the entrance fee and Augum signed in at the registration booth. They told him to report to the dressing room after the next fight. The trio then began the arduous search for empty seats. In the arena, a troupe of actors mimed out King Brimal Pradeep’s final moments, much to the amusement of those in attendance.

  Augum recognized a hawk-like face in the crowd—an ebony-skinned man with gray hair and a shiny black robe fringed with crimson. “Look, it’s the commander we saw in the Training Room, the one quoted in the Herald today.” He was with that shaved Legion guardsman, the fanatical-looking one.

  “Let’s follow him, see where he sits,” Bridget said.

  They cautiously made their way after the pair, shoving through the throng, getting lucky and settling just behind them in the stands. Augum leaned forward to listen, pretending to be watching the actors.

  “… received it today,” the Legionnaire with the shaved head was saying. “We Ordinaries finally have something to be proud of. Have you seen it?”

  “I’m sure it’s a fine blade, Lieutenant,” Commander Jordan replied in bored tones.

  “A fine blade? It can slice through the edge of parchment.” The lieutenant appeared to wait for a better reaction, but the commander was busy watching the troupe. He demonstrated with his hands. “That means that when you hold the parchment this way, the blade could slice—”