Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (70 page)

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.

“This boring you, Mr. Stone?” Leera asked with an impish grin.

He dismissed her with an idle swat and looked around. “Hey, where’s the portal rune that got us here?”

Leera pointed. “It’s—” Her finger waved about in the air before dropping. “You know, I have no idea.”

“Huh.” Augum searched the walls, finally finding an etched oval obscured behind some ivy. “Found it.”

“Thought of something?” Bridget asked. She was sitting on the edge of the fountain, elbows on her knees, head resting on her hands.

Augum tapped at the oval, thinking aloud. “What do you suppose cloaked access means?”

“Means we can get in to places without anyone knowing,” Leera said. “Obviously.”

Bridget jumped off and strode over. “You think that would work? Bypass payment?” She was gazing searchingly at him.

“Just might.”

“Worth a try, isn’t it?”

Leera elbowed in between them. “Did you two form some kind of secret club you forgot to invite me to?” She waved her hands before their faces. “Hello? Team member asking to be involved here. Anyone want to fill me in?”

Augum had to force himself not to snort a laugh. Instead, he maintained a serious expression, hand on his chin as he stared at the oval. “We’d have to be quiet, just in case.”

Bridget followed his lead, maintaining the same thinking posture, complete with hand on her chin. “Yes, and one of us would need to go first.” Both of them were doing a superb job of ignoring Leera.

Meanwhile, Leera was giving them serious nods. “Oh, yeah, that would work. I love this plan. WHAT ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT!”

Augum grabbed her and yanked her off her feet, twirling her about while she giggled and laughed.

“Let me go, you dumb brute!”

He kissed her cheek while she struggled in his arms. “We’re going to see if the portal will take us right into the Restricted Room, bypassing the Legion
and
having to pay the gargoyle coins.”

“Ooooh,” she said, still pretending to struggle. “I get it. All right, let go of me, you silly fool.” She punched his shoulder. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“All right, maybe I don’t, but that’s only because you’re so good-looking.”

“You two are cute,” Bridget said, placing her lit palm over the oval, “but even I sometimes want to gag.”

Leera smirked. “Don’t worry, Bridgey-poo, we’ll find you some handsome necrophyte to convert.”

Bridget gnashed her teeth at her. “
Don’t
call me that.”

“Sorry, you’re right, that’s reserved for your mystery future boy.” She quickly raised her hands. “Only kidding! Don’t turn me into cat food.”

Bridget, who had taken a stern attack-like posture, kept her eyes narrowed while she turned back to the oval.

“Sheeze,” Leera muttered to Augum, “we really
do
have to find her someone just so she can lighten up.”

“Here goes. Brie Sparrows. Restricted Room.” The portal instantly flared to life, whipping their robes and hair with wind.

“Well I’ll be …” Augum said. “All right, let me go first—”

Bridget shot out her arm. “No. If any one of us is going to get caught or captured, I want it to be me.” She gave them a sorrowful smile. “As much as you two make me want to tear my hair out sometimes, I’d never live with myself seeing you torn apart.”

Leera’s face softened. “Oh, Bridge …”

“Just be sure to follow right after,” Bridget added with a wink. “Here goes nothing—”

“Wait,” Leera said. “If it goes where I think it goes, you’re going to end up in the vestibule of the Restricted Room. There’s a bunch of … tiny stupid dwarves there, and if they ask you a question and you get it wrong, well, don’t be surprised if they make you eat, uh—”

“—stinkroot?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t reply until you two come then.”

They nodded and readied to leap through the portal after her. Except as soon as Bridget jumped through, the portal closed and Augum only managed to slam into the wall with a grunt.

They had forgotten a simple rule of portal use—
the person that opened the portal goes last
.

Leera scrambled for the oval. “Leigh Sparrows. Restricted Room—”

“Light your palm!”

“Right—shyneo. Leigh Sparrows, Restricted Room.”

The portal burst open again and Augum launched himself through. He tumbled to the ground on the other side, Leera rolling into him a moment later.

Bridget was standing before them, a finger over her lips. “Only whisper.”

“Hwat si het neacra drow rof larpot?” said a shrill voice that bounced against the marble walls of the vestibule.

Augum glanced up from the dusty floor to see a bunch of small bearded creatures. They were rotund little fellows with old faces and a waxy look to their skin. Each held one kind of root or another. A particularly fat one stood out front, still as a statue except for his moving lips.

“Hwat rea het neacra sdrow rof larpot?”

At least their plan had worked—it appears they had bypassed the gargoyle coin fee, not to mention the Legion.

“That’s the kind of gibberish they were spewing last time too,” Leera whispered as Augum helped her up. “I think it’s some ancient language.” She gave the dwarves a wide berth. “Let me tell you, they’re vicious little things that won’t hesitate to throw you out on your butt after making you eat—”

“We get it, Lee,” Bridget said, brows crossed in concentration.

“What a room,” Augum whispered. It was different from the others—older, mustier, more menacing. Stone gargoyles perched in the corners, watching with black eyes. Random spikes jutted from the crude masonry walls, as if the whole place was a pit trap.

He glanced at the tall doors behind them. He hoped no one could hear them on the other side, for that is where the guards would be at this very moment. Thankfully, it appears they had a way out—there was a hidden portal rune somewhere here, and all they had to do was find it.

“Hwat rea het neacra sdrow rof larpot?”

“I’m not sure it’s a language,” Bridget whispered, pacing over to an ancient stone table. Using a finger, she wrote the words into the dusty top.

Augum and Leera came over to study the phrase.

Hwat rea het neacra sdrow rof larpot
.

Bridget wrote the word
What
under the first word. “It’s an anagram.” She paused, then wrote the words
are the
. Leera reached over and added
arcane
words for
.

“Portal,” Augum whispered, adding in the last word.

“ ‘What are the arcane words for Portal?’ ” they quietly read in unison.

“We know this one,” Augum said, searching Bridget and Leera’s faces. “It’s the same words for the portal pillar we used in the Muranians. Starts with …
portus
, I think?”

Leera squinted. “Yeah …
portues ea
something …”

“Portus ea ire itum!” Bridget blurted, and the dwarves shuffled aside, allowing free passage to the door behind them. “Portal is a 17th degree spell,” she said to Augum and Leera. “This is going to be interesting,” and she cautiously led the way.

Beyond was a cave-like room that smelled of ancient dirt and decaying parchment. It was exceptionally dark, forcing Augum and Leera to light their palms. The shelves were all crudely hewn rock, with books unevenly distributed among them, each spine chained to a ring mooring. The jagged ceiling hung low. Tables were carved right into the rock walls. The whole place almost reminded Augum of a giant termite nest.

“Anyone want to make a bet those come alive?” Leera whispered, shining her palm light at an armored stone golem standing before a shelving unit. There was one before each shelf set, hands splayed in an attack pose.

“I don’t think these are training dummies,” Augum said, noting the massive stone arms and the blank and angular expressions.

“They look immune to arcanery.” Leera kept her distance. “Hope this place comes with instructions because I don’t even want to attempt walking by one of those.”

Bridget quietly paced from wall to wall, surveying each shelf section. “We need to find the section on scrolls.”

Leera froze. “What’s that noise?”

“What noise?” Bridget whispered in an urgent tone.

But soon Augum could hear it too—it was a distant clanking and shuffling noise, steadily coming closer. The girls began backing away, but he raised his hand and smiled. “Just wait. I think I know what that is.”

A rusted suit of armor soon emerged at the edge of their light. It was full-sized and had a faded gargoyle crest over its heart. A withered blade hung at its hip, and its joints squeaked so loudly Augum was worried it would have the Legion rushing in there any moment.

The suit of armor stopped between two golems. “Guinevere at thy service, mine elegant lord and charmed ladies,” it said in an echoing voice. “Librarian and minder to thee Restricted portion of thy ancient library.”

“It’s like a tall Fentwick, but a woman!” Leera said, approaching cautiously. “I
love
these things.” She peeked into the visor. “Yup, nothing in the helmet!”

Guinevere rattled to life and Leera sprang away like a cat. Her voice was sharp and fast. “Hark! I beseech thee to neither tarry nor jest, give airs nor huzzahs, and I prithee thou taketh naught without just payment given in coin.”

Augum blinked. “Uh … what?”

“Not quite sure,” Bridget replied slowly. “Something about not disturbing others, but also giving payment for … what though?” She raised her voice a little. “How does this all work, Guinevere?”

“Thy voice shall be kept to a licking flame!” Guinevere roared, and the trio took a step back.

Then why are you yelling, Augum wanted to ask, but decided better of it.

“How does this all work, Guinevere?” A cringing Bridget asked in the barest of whispers.

“ ‘Work’, m’lady?”

“Right,” Bridget mumbled. “Has to be a simple question. How about this—where is the scroll section?”

“Bequeath I a path, quoth I. Follow me thus, mine esteemed young lord of autumn and divine ladies of spring.”

“Aww, how adorable,” Leera said, skipping along as Guinevere set a rapid gait. Augum exchanged a brief amused look with Bridget before following, palms lit. Leera accidentally dislodged a book during her jovial bouncing and Guinevere whirled on her, voice an echoing shriek. “Thou durst not disturb thee peace of thine most precious tomes! Warning has thence been given, foul little mischief maker.”

Leera, who had shrunk away in alarm, carefully placed the book back on the shelf. “Uh, sorry … sorry about that. Won’t do it again, promise.” She turned to Augum and Bridget, muttering, “Seems Guinevere’s got a bit of a temper.”

Bridget gave her a
Just be careful then
look and they resumed following the squeaky suit of ancient animated armor. They passed section after section of large chained books, almost all marked with runic symbols along the spines or written in some archaic tongue.

“I suspect most of these are off-the-book,” Bridget whispered to Augum. “The ones that are spells at least.”

Augum managed to decipher one thick spine. It was written in an ancient version of the common tongue and labeled with the word
Doppelganger
. The runic symbol for 19 was underneath. “Did you see that—” he said to Bridget, but she was busy scanning the other side of the shelves.

“These are way beyond our degree,” she whispered in awed tones, shaking her head. “So advanced …”

“I bet you Mrs. Stone has been here before,” Leera said.

Augum pictured Nana spending hours and hours studying these ancient works. He wondered how she was faring. Was she all right? Was she sleeping at this hour of night? Or was she awake, running from the squad of warlocks tasked with chasing after her? He couldn’t wait to see her again. The thought made him more determined than ever to succeed tomorrow, which meant they had to get the
right
scroll for the job.

At last they entered a new section of thousands of cubbyholes, each packed with a yellowed parchment scroll and labeled underneath.

Guinevere stopped and creakingly turned to face them. “Mine exquisite young lord and refined budding ladies—thee section on scrolls lies before thee. Henceforth thou shall be mindful of thy wickedness. And worry thou shall not, for each work shall be restored. Thou may unfurl and study at thine will. But hark, for thou shall cast none, but bring with payment thus to Guinevere. So quoth I.” She trundled off back the way they had come.

“Did anyone get that?” Augum whispered.

Leera made a face that expressed the same confusion he felt. “Not a word.”

“I
think
I understood,” Bridget said, watching the armor rattle and disappear into the darkness. “We choose the scroll, bring it to her, and pay for it. We’re not allowed to cast them, but we can study them. Oh, and they get replaced eventually, I’m assuming by library warlocks, hence the payment. Maybe this place doubles as some kind of ancient shop, I don’t know.”