Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4)

by Sever Bronny

  “NO—!”

  Augum winced as he forced himself to help the situation with Telekinesis. The boy screamed from the strain but finally let go. The three of them collapsed in a gasping heap beside Leera as the slab shut. Augum could hear the wraiths and walkers rove about the maze, clacking with, he assumed, frustration.

  Eventually, after hearing a hiss come a little close for comfort, they got up and trundled along the field, the girls firmly holding the struggling boy’s arms. Augum was constantly fighting back the grinding pain of his jaw, which dwarfed the arcane-induced headache. Soon they were in the dimly lit obstacle field. Bridget eyed each obstacle carefully, mumbling to herself.

  “Where are you taking me?” Jonathan asked.

  No one replied as they hurried along.

  “They’ll hang you. No, flay you alive. Especially you two gutterborn wenches—”

  Bridget flinched. “Don’t use those horrible words.”

  “You’re not my mother. You’re an enemy of the kingdom. Brainwashed villains of the first order—”

  “There, that looks like it,” Bridget said, nodding at a black pillar on top of which sat a carved stone head with a shaved pate. Before the pillar was a large crimson circle.

  “Looks right,” Leera said, and they went over to it, half-dragging and half-walking the boy.

  “No, you can’t—” the boy said, struggling anew.

  “I’m sorry but we don’t have a choice,” Bridget said. “Hold him, Aug.”

  Augum grabbed the boy as Bridget read the inscription on the pillar.

  “ ‘Memory Wipe. Warning: this obstacle is for advanced warlock use only. Warlocks are advised to be proficient with Mind Armor at the 10th degree or higher. Rune one casts the spell at the 8th degree. Rune two casts the spell at the 10th degree. Rune three casts the spell at the 12th degree’.”

  There were three gargoyle runes below the inscription.

  “It should only wipe out your time here in Antioc,” Bridget said.

  The boy increased his struggling. “Wait … I’ll never tell! Promise!”

  Bridget closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, but we cannot take the risk. There is too much at stake.”

  “No! I’ll hex you, I will!”

  She rested a gentle hand on his arm. “Please don’t or we’ll cast Confusion on you, and the effects might make it much worse. Please.”

  The boy collapsed, exhausted. He gave them each a venomous look. “You’re going to hell anyway. All of you. And you’ll hang and I’ll watch you choke and kick until you are dead.”

  “Shyneo,” Bridget said, lightning up her palm with glowing green ivy as Augum and Leera placed him in the crimson circle. She sniffed but clenched her teeth. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan.” She gave Augum and Leera a sorrowful look. “May the Unnameables forgive us,” and placed her lit palm over the first rune. It glowed crimson, as did the circle. The boy made a kind of hiccup noise before collapsing.

  “Is … is he all right?” Leera asked.

  Bridget placed a hand on his neck. “Let’s take him to the entrance before the wraiths return,” she said, face as troubled as Augum had ever seen it. She and Leera placed his arms around their necks and they dragged Jonathan between them, hurrying as fast as they dared.

  “Don’t let him see our faces once he wakes up.”

  The boy woke with a groan not long after Leera said those words. “What … where am I?” His voice sounded even squeakier, and more innocent. “Why am I wearing a necrophyte robe? I’m not a necrophyte yet.”

  “What’s your name and how old are you?” Bridget asked, huffing.

  “Jonathan, and I’m twelve, but … how did I get here?”

  Augum exchanged a look with the girls. It had worked, although maybe a bit too well. Before, the boy had been thirteen and a necrophyte zealot.

  “What’s going on? Who are you?”

  “I’ll explain in a moment,” Bridget replied.

  They brought him to the large entrance doors just as one of the wraiths found an exit from the maze. It spotted them and began galloping over.

  “Hurry,” Leera said.

  Augum quietly opened one of the doors and peeked through, but there was no one on the other side. He waved them in, then closed the door behind them. They hurried to the nearby portal room, where Bridget lit up the portal to the General Quarters, still keeping her face averted.

  “You weren’t supposed to be here, Jonathan,” she said. “You played around in the obstacle field past closing because you wanted to do more training. You challenged yourself by trying an obstacle too powerful for your degree level.”

  “I … I don’t understand … I’m a warlock? So I did become a necrophyte—?”

  “Tell anyone who finds you that the obstacle you tried is called the Memory Wiper. Goodbye and good luck.”

  “What? Wait—” but the girls pushed him through the portal.

  The story probably wouldn’t hold up, Augum realized, but it didn’t really matter as long as it gave them enough time to conclude their quest in Antioc.

  Bridget staggered away. “What … what have we done to the poor boy?”

  “We’ll beat ourselves up after,” Leera said, placing her palm on an unmarked portal etching. “Shyneo. Leigh Sparrows. The fountain inside the labyrinth.” The portal flared to life. “Well will you look at that, it worked. Come on, you two.”

  The Labyrinth Fountain

  “There are holes in our story so large you can fit a wraith through,” Leera muttered to Augum, a sentiment he shared. She was leaning against a wall beside Bridget, comforting her with an arm around her shoulders, her palm lit with a dim watery glow. Augum sat beside Leera, holding hands with her, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head. His jaw had gone numb and his face felt as swollen as an overripe pumpkin.

  He curled his fingers tighter around hers. It was small comfort. This whole venture was a complete mess now—who knew what sort of trouble awaited them when they returned to their room to grab the Exot set. And what about Commander Jordan? What if the boy ended up identifying them after all? Could they not have thought of a better solution than wiping his memory?

  And then there was tomorrow’s duel with Robin, all in the hopes of getting one precious chance to steal the divining rod from Erika. Assuming she would even have it in her possession, of course. And even if they were somehow successful, they still needed to make an escape …

  He would have laughed at the utter ridiculousness of it all if it weren’t for the pain laughing would cause. Unnameables, his broken jaw alone would probably prevent anything from succeeding.

  Suddenly he just wanted to go to sleep. The harrowing excitement from the battle had worn off and he felt as drained as a squeezed lemon.

  “What have we become?” Bridget gurgled between sobs, head in her hands.

  “Probably for the best, if you think about it,” Leera replied after a pause. “Honestly? I think you just did him a massive favor. Maybe the boy won’t become a necrophyte now.”

  Bridget sniffed. “I still wiped an entire year from a boy’s memory. I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Leera sighed. “Yes you will. When Mrs. Stone is standing before us with a smile, you’ll forgive yourself. We had no choice. Even trying to get to Klines would have gotten us caught with all those extra guards prowling the halls. No way you could have known the spell would be that strong. Give yourself a break, Bridge.”

  Bridget scoffed. She looked up at Leera with a red face and wet cheeks. “Stop trying to make me feel better! I took a year’s worth of memory away from a thirteen-year-old boy!”

  Leera’s voice was a whisper. “We all did it, Bridge, not just you.”

  Augum would have chimed in supportively if he could speak, but it wouldn’t do much good beating themselves up over it now, not with so much to do, or rather, so much to attempt. His eyes wandered to the fountain before him. He was thirsty and wished it worked. All they needed was one more stupid coin, the
n they could get inside the Restricted Room. Hopefully there weren’t too many guards in there. He wasn’t sure he could handle any serious arcanery right now beyond Telekinesis.

  “How’s your jaw?” Leera asked softly, concern in her eyes.

  He shrugged, and wiped the blood from her nose.

  She gave a pained smile. “Thanks. You look how I feel.”

  He smiled reflexively which instantly gave him a bolt of pain. Instead, he smiled with his eyes. His jaw had long swelled past the point of being able to make any intelligible sounds other than moans and grunts.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “We’re a right mess. There better be a healing scroll of some kind in that Restricted Room.”

  Augum was counting on it. He placed his arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. He missed her. It was strange, here she was in his arms, but he genuinely missed her. He longed for a quiet fire, doing nothing but reading, his head on her belly as she napped. Maybe there would be the patter of rain on the roof. Maybe he’d have a steaming cup of tea beside him. Maybe Nana would be in the next room studying an ancient scroll. Maybe Bridget too.

  He felt old. So much was happening, and it was all so dangerous. How many moments would they have together still? Will they survive this experience? Will he defeat Robin tomorrow, then snatch the divining rod? And for what, so that he may face his father one day, maybe even growing old in the process via the Cron spell? That boy had lost a year of his life, but Augum felt like he and the girls were on the cusp of losing more … a lot more.

  Never had he wanted to give up more than in that moment, while Bridget quietly wept, and Leera’s head was on his shoulder, and his jaw throbbed with every beat of his heart, and the odds so against them. If someone with the power suddenly walked in offering a quiet life in the middle of nowhere for them, he would instantly accept. Why should they throw their lives away for a kingdom as brainwashed as that boy?

  The answer was hard to hear, but it came nonetheless.

  Because others had given their lives in the hopes of the trio vanquishing his father.

  And that made him mull things over for some time. Upon further reflection, sure, they might not be perfect, or even close to perfect, or even that intelligent, but they were doing the best with what they had.

  Fifteen years old … more like fifty. He snorted, causing blinding, tear-inducing pain.

  “You okay?” Leera murmured in sleepy tones, gently squeezing his hand, eyes closed. “Should rest a little while …”

  Augum watched as her palm steadily dimmed until going out altogether; listened as Bridget’s sniffing slowed; to the low howl of the wind … and rested his eyes, just for a little while …

  * * *

  It took some time for Augum to wake up. He opened his eyes to see Bridget kneeling before him, shaking him gently, her face long and slightly gaunt.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “We should go.”

  He nodded, suddenly aware of the throbbing pain in his jaw again. He would have preferred to keep sleeping. He gently shook Leera awake, who had nuzzled into his side.

  “Hmm—? What hour of night is it?” she asked groggily.

  “Don’t know,” Bridget said. “No idea how long we napped for. Maybe a few hours.”

  “Great,” Leera muttered, giving Augum’s hand a final squeeze before letting go and glancing around. “One more coin. One more stupid coin. Let’s just find the dumbest and easiest puzzle we can.” She placed her hands on the edge of the fountain and stretched her calves. Then she froze. “Hey, look at this—” She nodded at the gargoyle on top with its staff and pointing finger.

  “That coiled snake around the staff, doesn’t that mean something?” she asked Bridget. “We saw that somewhere—”

  “Healing,” Bridget blurted. “The coiled snake, or serpent, is the symbol for healing venom.” She pointed at the bald figural pictorials that decorated the sides of the fountain. “And we already know these symbolize the Leyans. Remember the fountain back in Castle Arinthian?” She glanced between them meaningfully. “You know, I do believe this is a healing fountain!”

  “Of course!” Leera said, beaming.

  Bridget began pacing. “I can’t believe we never thought of it—there had to be something like that down here, some way for warlocks to be able to heal without seeking out a healer. I mean, look at how dangerous this place is—” She froze, stared at the fountain, tapping her chin. “But how to make it work?”

  Augum was already on it, studying the pictorials. Every single one was different, much like the Leyans he had seen in Ley. But they were just standing there, not making any gestures or symbols or anything. No, there had to be something more … He studied the gargoyle, with its staff and outstretched finger. He followed where the finger pointed, but it was only the distant cave-like ceiling. Then he noticed the fingertip itself was dark and blotchy, as if smeared with black oil. He pressed on the tip, but nothing happened. Soon he came across other splotches, also black, but some a very dark brown.

  And then it hit him. Blood. They were blood! He gestured at his jaw, making a moaning noise.

  “What is it?” Leera asked.

  “What are you trying to say, Augum?”

  He gestured more firmly, glancing between the two of them. Surely, one of them would guess right!

  “We have to break the finger?” Leera said with a skeptical look.

  He shook his head gently to avoid causing himself pain. He made another noise, gesturing at her nose.

  “You have to break my nose? No thanks.”

  “What do nose and jaw have in common?” Bridget asked herself, frowning. “They’re both parts of the body—”

  He rolled his eyes. Come on, you two, it’s blood! He made slashing gestures at his arms and then made wild indications they simply had to interpret as blood spraying.

  Leera’s face contorted with further confusion. “We hack its head off to make the water flow—? That doesn’t sound right at all.”

  Augum threw up his hands in surrender. He crossed his arms, tapping his foot as he glared at the girls. They exchanged mystified looks.

  Suddenly an idea occurred to him. He strode over to Bridget and grabbed her head, finding the wound she had incurred in the maze above.

  “Aug, what are you—OW!” She smacked him on the arm. “What’d you do that for!”

  Augum wanted to smile—she sounded just like Leera. Instead, he made an apologetic gesture but showed them his bloody finger.

  “Ohhhhh,” the girls toned at the same time.

  He marched to the fountain and touched the gargoyle’s finger with the blood. But nothing happened.

  This time it was Leera that smacked him. “Jerk—” but then there was a blurp and a gurgle and the fountain spurted to life. Soon clear water trickled down the spiral.

  “You’re a genius,” Leera mumbled.

  “I forgive you,” Bridget quickly added.

  He cupped his hands, scooped up some cold water, and carefully poured it into his mouth and over his face. The effect began immediately. It started with a warm tingling sensation that progressed to a prickling, as if a thousand ants were in his jaw. After a while, it became soothing.

  He took a long, satisfied breath, feeling refreshed and energized, then turned to the girls with a grin. “Breaking the finger? Really? You two can be so daft.”

  They chortled. Soon all three of them were washing like cats. All the cuts, the bangs and bumps and bruises healed.

  “Whatever house I end up living in,” Leera said, repeatedly smoothing back her wet dyed hair, “has got to have one of those.”

  Bridget raised a finger. “Actually, healing fountains are some of the rarest—”

  “Oh hush, you.”

  “All right then,” Augum said with a smile, feeling more refreshed than he could remember. “You two ready? One last coin.”

  “One last coin,” the girls chorused.

  Restricted

  The tri
o found the easiest puzzle they had come across yet—a bunch of randomized sliding stone pieces on a wall that, once put together, formed a gargoyle.

  Augum flicked the last coin to Bridget with his thumb. She caught it deftly.

  “Look at that,” Leera said as they strolled back to the fountain. “Didn’t even have to risk our lives for once.”

  Bridget stopped at the fountain, which had gone dry once more. She nodded at the marble staircase that led to the abyss. Over that abyss was the invisible bridge that led to the secret arcane library. “All right, let’s assume the Legion put quite a few new guards in that hall. I’m talking about wraiths, walkers, Legionnaires and maybe even warlocks.” She looked them in the eyes. “How do we get past them?”

  Leera raised a finger and her mouth opened but then she frowned. “No … never mind, that would definitely get us killed.”

  Augum flipped his palm casually. “What if we—” but then he frowned too.

  “What?” Leera said. “Spit it out. Will it get us killed?”

  “I was just thinking we could do some kind of distraction. Lead them into a portal,” but he was shaking his head. “It’d never work, I know. They’re not dumb enough to leave the entire hall unguarded.”

  “So it’ll get us killed.”

  He nodded. How in all of Sithesia were they supposed to get past them? Even if all three of them cast Centarro, the odds were still almost remote. That hall was huge and had a lot of ground to cover with nothing to hide behind.

  Bridget splayed her hands—one of which was lit with a bright green glow—

  demanding their attention. “What if one of us fought them from one end of the hall while the other two snuck in behind?” She grimaced, scratched at her nose. “That’ll probably get the person killed, won’t it?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Yup.”

  They tossed around a few more ideas, but every single one seemed to end in gruesome death or a capture, which probably also ended in a gruesome death.

  Augum stretched his arms, curling his fingers, his wrists, and bending back his shoulders. It felt good, helped clear his head.