Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (12 page)

“Indeed, for the good of all,” echoed Mr. Goss.

Jengo took his place at the table, shooting Augum a confused and frightened look. He had obviously not been told anything. Knowing Jengo, that was probably for the best.

Mr. Okeke poured Mr. Harvus a cup of steaming tea. “Any word from Mrs. Stone?”

Harvus withdrew an embroidered cloth and placed it on the table. He unfolded it to reveal a golden engraved fork, knife and spoon. “I am afraid not, Mr. Okeke. I truly hope she is all right.” Though everything about his face said otherwise. He gave the already shining utensils a thorough polish.

Mr. Okeke inclined his head. “As do we all.”

Augum noticed something peculiar about the flatware—it was engraved with someone else’s initials. Maybe it was bought second hand?

Jengo helped his father serve breakfast, which consisted of eggs, sausage, potatoes and oatcake.

“Today is a special day,” Mr. Goss said. “A day banned by the Legion, but we are lucky to have a constable willing to look the other way.”

“Lover’s Day is a peasant holiday advocating depravity and immorality, Mr. Goss,” Mr. Harvus said, carefully cutting up his sausage. “And the children and I shall not be participating in any of the events.”

“That is most unfortunate, Mr. Harvus,” Mr. Goss replied cheerily, “because there is going to be a marvelous evening feast, with the finest wine. There will be a dance and games and singing and—” but when he saw the sour expression on Harvus’ face, he quickly changed tact. “Oh but during the day there will be butter cookies, tart cakes, and Canterran chocolate—”

Mr. Harvus looked up. “Canterran chocolate, you say? I have not had the pleasure of—” He cleared his throat quickly. “Perhaps we can make a brief appearance, I suppose. If all precautions are taken, of course.”

“Of course. The festivities begin at noon.”

Augum stole a look at Leera—he had entirely forgotten it was Lover’s Day, and it made not being able to hold her hand that much more agonizing. By the look she was giving him, he guessed she was thinking the exact same thing.

Harvus glanced up and they quickly looked away, but Augum knew he’d seen by his stupid micro frown. He cursed himself for being careless.

“Are you going to see Priya and her mother later, Jengo?” Mr. Okeke asked after taking a sip of tea.

Jengo’s eyes briefly darted to Harvus. “Y-yes, if it’s all right with you, Father.”

“What kind of father would I be if I were to stand in the way of my own son, betrothed to such a beautiful young woman, on Lover’s Day? Of course it is all right. In fact, I encourage it. Go see Priya and make sure to tell her we look forward to sitting with her and her mother at tonight’s feast.”

“Yes, Father.” Jengo took a nervous sip of tea before rushing through his food.

One of Harvus’ brows rose knowingly and the briefest smug expression flashed across his pudgy face, before once again going blank. Augum had the impression Harvus might have something to say on the matter later.

“Will Haylee be spending the day with Chaska?” Mr. Okeke pressed.

Jengo paused, fork shaking in his hand. “I … I’m not sure, Father.”

Of course they were spending it together, Augum thought. It’s just that poor Jengo didn’t want to draw Harvus’ wrath.

“Do you have any children, Mr. Harvus?” Mr. Okeke asked.

“I uh, I do not, no.”

“Ah, that is most unfortunate, for children are the light of life.”

“Yes, well, I have my duties, Mr. Okeke, and they suit me just fine.”

“I see you do not wear a wedding ring. No wife either?”

Harvus froze as if recalling something long past. Then he caught himself and cleared his throat properly. “When I was younger I … but that is long past, I was a sinner then.”

Bridget gave a warm smile. “How young, Mr. Harvus?”

“Too young, I am afraid. I was desperately poor and stupid. Now let us not discuss the matter, it is inappropriate for breakfast.”

Mr. Okeke gathered a potato onto his fork. “Of course, Mr. Harvus, forgive us for our prying ways.”

The tense meal concluded with honey-dipped almonds and milk, after which Augum, Bridget, Leera and Jengo quietly departed with Mr. Harvus to the cabins, where they resumed their training. Jengo, still working on his 1st degree, was made to study the blue book on arcaneology on his own. Augum now realized Harvus had always refused to give Jengo one-on-one training for one reason or another—even though that is what Mrs. Stone hired him for—and that’s why Jengo was so far behind.

Augum was running through his spells as usual, slowly developing a minor headache, when Jengo called out.

“Mr. Harvus, sir! I need some help explaining this part about hand gestures for the Repair spell.”

Harvus, who had been busy critiquing the way Bridget was forming her hands with the Repair spell—a spell she had long mastered—turned to Jengo with a distasteful look. “Augum, would you please take a moment and instruct the poor soul? Mind you are not to touch the book as you have not earned that privilege back yet.”

“Yes, Mr. Harvus.” Augum hated being so polite to him, but knew it was necessary for now. He strolled over to Jengo. “Which part do you need help with?”

“This part.” Jengo slid over the book, tapping at a particular paragraph.

“But this chapter’s on the 3rd degree, Jengo, you’re only on the—” Augum froze, suddenly realizing what Jengo was indicating—
the counterspell to Object Alarm!

“You’re a genius,” Augum whispered. “Think it’ll work against an off-the-book extension though?”

Jengo stole a glance at Harvus before whispering, “I don’t see why not. The counterspell
is
an extension in itself.”

“Right. Keep nodding your head while I read the section.” Augum pretended to point to a few things in the book for Jengo, who faked interest, while he absorbed every word as if his life depended on it.

“ ‘The counterspell to Object Alarm is far more complex than the average apprentice suspects’,” Augum read under his breath, “ ‘for not only is it critical for the caster to arcanely reverse the spell in its entirety, but the hand motion must be reversed as well, with the caster placing his hands on the object and withdrawing them the moment the spell is triggered. The exact phraseology is equally as important and must be said in reverse, with a reverse inflection. Here below is the exact wordage—’ ”

Jengo suddenly flipped the book to the chapter on the 1st degree as Harvus strode toward them.

“How are things coming along, my apprentices?”

“Excellent, Mr. Harvus. Augum is being very helpful.”

“Good.” Harvus picked up a nearby branch using Telekinesis and floated it over. With a flick of both gloved hands, he snapped it in two, allowing the pieces to fall to the earth. “Please demonstrate the correct gesture for the Repair spell then, Jengo.”

Augum felt a cold sweat—Harvus was on to them again. But Jengo surprised him by simply spreading his palms over the stick and saying, “Apreyo,” his pronunciation perfect. The two stick ends joined seamlessly.

Harvus’ thin brows rose up his forehead. “Are you telling me, son, that you have been having trouble with the gesture, yet you know the spell?”

“Well that’s what Augum helped me fine tune, sir,” Jengo quickly replied.

“I see.” Harvus’ eyes flicked between the two of them. He presented a gloved hand. “The book please, Jengo.”

Jengo dutifully handed it over. Harvus immediately began scanning through it, looking for guilt. After a time, his lips thinned and he returned it to Jengo, evidently finding nothing. “You may continue, child. Augum, follow me please.”

Augum thanked Jengo with his eyes before following Harvus to a spot away from everyone, catching a pensive look from the girls as they practiced shooting the First Offensive at a stump.

Harvus turned around. “Are you sorry for the way you acted yesterday?”

“Yes, Mr. Harvus.” Lying with a straight face was hard.

“You are what, Augum?”

“I am sorry for the way I acted yesterday, Mr. Harvus.” Really hard …

“Good, I am very happy to hear it. I trust in the future you will think twice before slandering my good name or cavorting in an unwholesome manner.” He raised his chin, hands behind his back. “You have been making progress, Augum. Now, if you can tell me the name of the 4th degree elemental spell and correctly pronounce its verbiage, you may begin learning it.”

“The name of the spell is Summon Minor Elemental, sir, and …” Augum formed his thoughts together—he had been practicing the pronunciation to himself half the night and morning. The problem was the trigger words were a tongue twister and despite Bridget’s warning, he still kept accidentally switching the n’s with m’s. “And the trigger words are … summano elementus minimus.”

Harvus’ face slackened. Augum knew he had been expecting him to fail that little test. Probably had a fine punishment lined up too. It gave him satisfaction knowing he had foiled the mangy-head’s petty plans.

Harvus’ shoulders drooped. “Good,” he said tonelessly, sighing. “I suppose it is a waste of time training each of you separately. Bridget, Leera—come here please, girls.”

Bridget and Leera walked over, blue robes swinging.

“Everyone here has now earned the right to learn the 4th degree elemental spell.”

When Harvus had his back turned, Augum mouthed “Thank you” to Bridget for helping him with the pronunciation the night before. When Harvus turned to Augum to make some boring point, the girls smiled proudly in response from behind the man’s back.

“… and since everyone’s pronunciation is passable,” Harvus droned on, “let us begin with the gesture, which will be the most complex for you thus far.” Harvus rubbed his white-gloved hands together. “Watch my hands now.” He drew a five-pointed star in midair, his two hands precisely mirroring each other’s movements, coming together at the top. “As you will note, I have just drawn the outline of a small man—”

Augum dared the quickest glance at Leera who, as he suspected, had a mischievous look in her eye.
Small man
. He wanted to guffaw with her but was careful to keep a straight face, as was she.

“—you start from the abdomen and draw the legs,” Harvus continued, “being careful to keep your hands exactly mirrored. Once you have drawn the outline of the legs, you draw the arms and then the head. It is important to finish speaking the last syllable of the spell the moment your hands touch at the head. As well, your arcane energies must reach an apex at the
same time
. Understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Harvus,” they chorused languidly.

“Now observe.” Harvus started drawing, beginning the phrase “Summano elementus minimus” halfway through, and finishing the last syllable as his fingers touched at the head of the invisible drawing. An earthen elemental about the size of small child immediately ripped to life, landing on its feet between them and Harvus.

The trio took a couple steps back, wary of the strange creature made of rocks, twigs and earth.

Harvus pointed at Jengo. “Elementus—attack!” and the little monster sprinted at Jengo, who yelped, tossed his book aside and ran for his life.

“Elementus—halt!”

The creature stopped.

“Elementus—here!”

The small earth elemental strode back to them as fluidly as Fentwick, the animated ancient suit of armor from Castle Arinthian.

“The duration of the spell depends on your concentration and typically increases with every degree.” Harvus casually paced around the tiny elemental as Jengo warily made his way back. “The real trick of the spell is doing it precisely in battle. It is difficult as is, but during the heat of combat—well, let me just say that many a warlock has hit their ceiling with this very spell.”

There was a glint to Harvus’ eyes, as if he was betting on just that happening to Augum.

Harvus waved idly and the elemental disappeared with a pop. “Now let us practice the gesture together. If you all do a good job, I may allow you to attend this evening’s feast.”

“But Mr. Harvus,” Leera began, “what about the afternoon’s festivities and games?”

“I do not want to hear any whining, my dear child. We have more important things to do. As I said, if you work hard and focus, I
may
allow you to attend this evening’s feast.”

The trio couldn’t help but groan.

* * *

They trained and trained, yet the spell truly was difficult. As Harvus had said, it was particularly challenging drawing a precise gesture while timing the words of the spell
with
the arcane energies. Thus it was no surprise that when noon arrived, none of them had found success, for juggling three very different concepts all at once was simply beyond their current capabilities.

“I am disappointed,” Harvus said as they lay around gasping, exhausted from their efforts. “I do not think you have won the privilege to attend lunch at a festivities table. I shall have Mr. Goss bring some sustenance here. Please sit in silent reflection while I am gone.”

Harvus left them alone, glancing back once from the top of the valley. As soon as he was gone, Jengo hissed to get their attention.

“Harvus hasn’t told you the entirety of the spell. I’ve been reading up on it, suspecting something like that.”

“What? He would do that?” Bridget asked.

Leera sat up to glare at Bridget. “Are you kidding? Where have you been?”

“He’s leaving out the part about visualization,” Jengo continued. “You have to envision the elemental being alive and stuff.”

Leera groaned and fell back to the ground. “Great, the spell’s hard enough.”

“Of course! All we had to do is remember Mrs. Stone’s teachings,” Bridget said. “The spell demands all five precepts of arcane competence—visualization, pronunciation, arcane manipulation, gestural precision, and timing.”

Leera, splayed like a defeated warrior on the grass, stared skyward. “Well I wish
she
was teaching us the spell instead of Harvus.”

“This spell is complex,” Bridget admitted, “and I suspect it would usually take at least a month to learn at an academy—”

“But … we can learn it quickly, right?” Leera interrupted.