Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (7 page)

Mr. Okeke’s skeptical eyes appeared from above the parchment for a moment, but he said nothing.

“Mr. Goss, I beg you, come to just
one
of our training sessions and you’ll—”

“Stop exaggerating, Lee,” Bridget cut in. “He really isn’t that bad, Mr. Goss, he’s just … particular.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re his favorite,” Leera said, “and you even know what he thinks of women in general—”

While the girls argued, Augum glanced over at the Blackhaven Herald. He wondered if there was any news about the tournament, or his father, or especially, the search for Mrs. Stone.

Augum learned that the Blackhaven Herald was crafted in the wee hours of each morning and hurriedly copied using arcane quills. Hired warlocks would then teleport to all the towns and constabularies, dropping off bundles. From there, couriers distributed them to the surrounding villages by horse. Apparently, being a warlock journalist used to be a fun job until the Legion started dictating what was written. Back in Willowbrook, the Herald was rarely seen, declared to be promoting witchery. Except, of course, when there was important news. Not that many of the villagers could read.

“… but I’m sure Mr. Harvus was only trying to teach you a lesson in concentration,” Bridget said, referring to the time he made Leera write one thousand parchment lines saying
I will listen attentively while Mr. Harvus is speaking.

Augum tried forcing himself to look forward to learning their first summoning spell with Harvus, but it was like looking forward to cleaning soiled laundry. Instead, he fantasized about getting Harvus fired somehow.

“—and why
can’t
we hire someone else?” Leera said as if reading Augum’s mind.

“Because Mrs. Stone approves of Mr. Harvus,” Bridget said in a tone suggesting she was tired of repeating herself. “And besides, Mr. Harvus can keep our secrets.”

Leera folded her arms across her chest, a sour expression on her face.

“Any news, Kwabe?” Mr. Goss asked, taking the Agonex away from a moaning Leland.

“A new decree, I am afraid.”

“Another one?” Bridget asked. “What is it this time?”

Augum sat forward. The Legion had decreed a spate of new rules of late—no celebrating unsanctioned holidays; no gathering in groups of ten or more people without a permit from a Legion constable; no worshipping gods of any kind; no practicing arcanery without permission; and so on.

“No weapons of any kind are allowed,” Mr. Okeke replied, “without written prior consent.”

“I do believe we saw that one coming,” Mr. Goss said. “They are afraid of opposition.”

“I have to disagree, Albert.” Mr. Okeke handed him the parchment. “I think they merely wish to control us. Read the last one, decree ninety-six.”

Mr. Goss adjusted his spectacles. “ ‘Every hamlet, village and town in Solia will hereby host a Legion Constable who will collect taxes, keep the peace, and settle disputes’.”

They all glanced at each other.

Suddenly there was a distant horn blast. For a moment no one moved. When the horn sounded again, everyone scrambled—Augum shot to a window; Mr. Goss picked up a fire poker and raced to the door; Leera scuttled over to the rucksack and dug out the orb; Mr. Okeke ran to his room; Bridget protected Leland from the scuffle; and Jengo grabbed his head, proclaiming their imminent death.

“I cannot see anything out of the ordinary,” Augum whispered, prowling from window to window. The forest was silent.

Leera, who had been quietly trying to call Mrs. Stone through the Orb of Orion, raised her head. “Can’t get a response.”

Mr. Okeke finished putting on a crimson and gold tunic and strode to the door. “Please, everyone—do stay here, I shall return shortly.”

“If we’re not here, we’ll probably be at the cabin, Mr. Okeke,” Augum said. “The enchantments are stronger there.”

“Father—” Jengo called. “Be careful.”

Mr. Okeke gave a nod and carefully opened the door. Seeing nothing outside, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Augum soon went for the door handle. “I have to see what’s going on.”

“I do not think that wise, Augum,” Mr. Goss said, the fire poker trembling in his hand.

“I won’t be long.”

“Then we’re coming with you.” Bridget handed a moaning Leland over to his father, who hesitated, but put the fire poker down.

Jengo slithered to his room, voice low in defeat. “Then you’ll get killed, all three of you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Leera said, “and Aug’s right—we can’t just sit here like trapped rats.”

Augum grabbed the rucksack after Leera stuffed the orb back inside. Bridget snagged the Agonex and put it in too. They were practiced at being prepared, always ready to bolt should things suddenly go awry.

“Then be sure to stay safe, you three,” Mr. Goss said, face scrunching with worry. Leland moaned his agreement.

Augum turned the handle. “We will, Mr. Goss.”

The trio scampered through the door and into the woods behind the cabin. They ran amongst the soggy pines, circling the village. Only when they heard the sound of horses did they slow to a creep.

“There,” Leera whispered, pulling aside a branch. Augum and Bridget crowded close. A few strides away stood a small procession—two black-armored soldiers on horseback and a covered wagon pulled by two oxen. The wagon was manned by a chunky boy their age and a squat man wearing ill-fitting black garments. He was so obese he almost lacked a neck.

There was no mistaking the burning sword of the Legion emblem on the soldiers’ chests.

Augum shared a look with the girls—the Legion had come to Milham. This could mean a fight and an immediate evacuation.

Leera secretly found his hand and their fingers curled together.

The obese man reached for a cane. “Help me down please, Devon.”

The boy dropped the reins he was holding. “Yes, Father.”

A crowd gathered around the wagon, giving the pot-helmed soldiers a wide berth. Augum recognized Mr. Harvus; Panjita Singh and her daughter, Priya; Mr. Okeke; Huan, the innkeeper of the Miner’s Mule Inn; Chaska and his Henawa father, the storekeeper of the Good Medicine shop. Everyone wore an anxious expression.

As the obese man was helped to the ground, the soldiers scanned the crowd and the forest, forcing the trio to briefly duck.

“Who is in charge here please?” the obese man asked the crowd, breath coming in short gasps. Stepping down from the wagon had evidently tired him.

“I am still.” A dark-skinned old man with a pointy black beard and wearing a long robe stepped forward.

The obese man withdrew a cloth from his ill-fitting garments and dabbed at his chins. “Ah, Mr. Hanad Haroun. A pleasure to see you again.”

Mr. Haroun gave a short bow. “Constable Clouds. I bid you welcome to Milham.”

Augum remembered Mr. Haroun’s rousing speech at Endyear, and how he swore opposition should the Legion attempt taking Milham’s men. So far, Mr. Haroun appeared to be keeping his calm. Nonetheless, Augum was ready to plow through the brush should the call arise to take the soldiers down.

“Isn’t that the supposedly corrupt constable?” Leera whispered.

“Shh,” Bridget quickly said.

Augum did recall Jengo mentioning something on the subject, but then again, Jengo was quite prone to exaggeration.

Constable Clouds adjusted the grip on his cane with an arm that perpetually shook. “Mr. Haroun, I am sure you have already heard word from the Herald—”

“We have indeed. The news just reached us, in point of fact.”

“I understand. The roads have been treacherous of late. Bandits, you see. Regardless, as before, I am here on behalf of the Legion. However, this time it is to stay.”

The crowd stirred anxiously.

Clouds made a placating gesture with a meaty hand. “But I do not wish to cause any concern to you or to the villagers of Milham, Mr. Haroun. I am here to maintain order as per Legion decree number ninety-six. These are my trusted guards and enforcers of the law—Lieutenant Briggs and Sergeant Cobb. You will find them as just and fair as I.”

That did not seem to quell the mutterings.

“What is it we can do for you, Constable?” Mr. Haroun asked.

Clouds coughed into the cloth. Augum noticed he wore a wedding ring. “Again, I do not wish to bestow alarm or fear in Milham. Like you all, I pray for peace. Let us ride out the war together without harm. All we require is a domicile. If none can be provided, we shall build one.”

“But the war is over, is it not?” a woman called from the crowd. “Tiberra has fallen.”

The constable dabbed at his sweaty face. He sounded tired. “Ah, if only it were so. I am afraid that for the Legion, the war is never over.”

An odd thing to say, Augum thought to himself. Some in the Legion could even find that kind of talk treasonous.

“But I repeat, you yourselves need not fear,” Clouds went on. “Milham is an isolated mining village. There shan’t be armies marching through here.”

“And what of our men?” called the same woman. “Are you here to take our men?”

Clouds glanced back at the pot-helmed soldiers, who sat silently on their stallions, before turning back to the anxious crowd. “Here me thus and hear me clear—as long as my commander has no reason to come to Milham, we will not take any men or confiscate property—except when absolutely necessary. Again, I repeat—we are not here to cause a disturbance. We wish you to go on about your business as before, without fear or worry.” He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing. “We are family men who know the value of love and community. Please, do not be afraid to come to us with your concerns. I assure you, we will do our best to help everyone. I know you have heard stories of soldiers … taking advantage. We are not those kinds of soldiers. We are not spies. We are
not
your enemy.”

“Must be some kind of trick,” Bridget whispered as the crowd muttered amongst themselves, some in evident relief. “Isn’t it?”

Augum only shook his head in bewilderment, mirroring the same slack look of disbelief as the crowd.

“That said,” Clouds continued, “I am afraid I must confiscate
some
weapons. We should consider it a gesture of appeasement. Please place what you can spare into the wagon as soon as possible. Let us at least make a show of it. Further, I will be sending the wagon back to Eastspear on a regular basis with taxes and any necessary requests from command. Also, please refrain from speaking about the gods in public or gathering in groups of ten or more. I must stress that we must
appear
to be following the letter of all requests.”

Augum shook his head slowly. What was going on here? This man wasn’t like any Legion soldier he’d come across before …

Mr. Haroun raised his chin. “I hope you are truly sincere, good sir. Many here have endured enough grief for this lifetime.”

“I assure you I am. As a token of our trust in each other, allow us to present our families.” The constable tapped the wagon with his cane, and from the back emerged two women wearing peasant dress and country bonnets, holding hands with four children.

“These are the wives and children of my soldiers.” Clouds rested a heavy arm on the chubby boy beside him. “And this is my very own son, Devon. We are not here to cause trouble. We have heard Milham is a town after our own hearts. I cannot express how sincere we are. Please accept us as one of your own.”

For a long moment the crowd exchanged glances, until Mr. Haroun stepped forward. “Then on behalf of Milham, we wish you a pleasant stay. I insist you join my family for lunch. As for everyone else, please do as the constable says—bring any weapons you do not need and place them in the wagon. We must help our new neighbors follow regulations.”

Augum kept shaking his head. This was baffling. Surely a real Legionnaire would have instantly demanded every weapon, followed by a thorough search of the town and most probably a questioning in some iron room.

The crowd closed in on Clouds, his son, and the soldiers. There were many handshakes, smiles, and even tentative hugs.

“I just can’t believe it,” Bridget said, slumping to the ground and looking between Augum and Leera. “Could it be they’re actually on our side?”

Augum flipped his hand. “If so—and I’m not convinced they’re for real yet—maybe we can work with them somehow. Find weaknesses in the Legion or something, I don’t know.”

Leera glanced past them at the procession. “I’m not convinced. What if it’s a trick to disarm everyone before slaughtering them like lambs? Wouldn’t put it past them, you know.”

Augum watched as Devon shook hands with another boy, the pair smiling and nodding as they spoke. He noted how the children resembled the soldiers, who had taken off their pot helms and how everyone seemed at ease. They weren’t checking the trees or communicating in secret. Their body language told him they were being open and sincere. “I don’t think so. I think those are their real families. But we obviously shouldn’t reveal ourselves just yet. Let’s wait and see what happens.”

“Agreed,” the girls chorused.

Leera’s eyes narrowed. “Harvus is heading to the cabin. Time to go.”

Moral Grounds

The trio made it back to the Okeke cabin in short order, passing on the unbelievable news to Mr. Goss, Leland and Jengo, though failing to raise Mrs. Stone on the orb. Harvus entered soon after.

“I still think it’s a trap,” Jengo said as Mr. Goss left to see for himself, leaving Leland in Jengo’s care. His eyes wandered to the window. “There’s probably thousands of soldiers surrounding the village as we speak. It’s Clouds. He’s taken bribes before. I’m certain he’s corrupt.”

Augum couldn’t help but glance furtively out the window, recalling the raid on Sparrow’s Perch. It did not escape his notice the girls did the same.

“Well, Mrs. Stone said she’d be here in a flash if any of her special enchantments are tripped,” Leera said.

“Unless something happened to her,” Mr. Harvus said without expression. “Let us hope that is not the case, of course.” He brought his white-gloved hands together. “In the meantime, I absolutely forbid you three to show your faces in town until I deem it absolutely safe. And you are not to take any foolish risks like spying on the Legion or any other ill-advised behavior.” He cupped his ear at them. “I am afraid I do not hear a ‘Yes, Mr. Harvus’.”