Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (31 page)

Bridget placed a hand over her mouth, eyes welling up. Leera laid her head on Bridget’s shoulder while giving Augum’s hand a tight squeeze. It was a difficult letter to listen to. Augum’s heart ached. He missed Nana so much.

Mr. Okeke continued. “ ‘The spell has been an onerous undertaking under the circumstances, especially as I am already quite old. It is taking its toll. I have developed a bit of a cough, and my spectacles have become inadequate. I have eluded the Legion thus far, but there have been many close calls. The tracking party’s prowess has made it impossible for me to visit you at this time. They have proved to be formidable opponents especially well-equipped to thwart me. My days are spent on the road. My feet and bones hurt and I am always tired. I fear I cannot keep this up for much longer. It feels as if there is never enough time now, for time has become a most precious thing indeed. It seems eons ago since I have laid eyes upon you. I yearn for the simple things most—clean linens, a quiet fire, a good book, a warm meal, pleasant company, and above all, watching you grow before my eyes.’ ”

Haylee gave a sniffle as she drew Leland close. “Oh, Mrs. Stone,” she whispered.

Mr. Okeke swallowed and read on. “ ‘How are your studies coming along? I trust you have been working very hard and pushing yourselves. I trust Mr. Harvus has been a good and thoughtful mentor. Have you discovered anything about the artifact in question yet? Perhaps you will have received this letter before your departure.’ ”

Mr. Okeke took a deep breath before reading the last portion. “ ‘I sign off hoping you are all together, that you are warm, safe, in good health and high spirits. Please know that you are in my thoughts often. As for me, my greatest challenge awaits, and that is mastering this formidable spell, and somehow teaching it to you. I only hope to live long enough to accomplish this last act. Remember, my dears, that you are strongest together, that life is precious and short, and that all things must pass. With love and deep affection for you all, AAS.’ ”

Mr. Okeke stared at the parchment before gently folding it up and handing it to Augum, who held the wrinkled letter close, finger tracing over the broken wax seal. For a long time, nobody spoke.

After quietly settling back at the table, Augum could not resume eating. Nana was out there desperately trying to learn Cron while being chased by that vicious tracking party led by Erika Scarson. He glanced down at the parchment. How long had this letter been in transit? How many leagues had it travelled?

When he glanced up, he caught Bridget’s eye, and there was a steely determination there. Leera had the same look. He gave them the subtlest nod, knowing that today was the last day they could prepare for what awaited them, for by tomorrow morning, they would be undertaking a dangerous new quest.

The meal concluded in thoughtful silence, with the trio quickly moving on to training at the grove. Haylee insisted on staying behind with Jengo, where she could continue training with him while minding over Leland. She did it so the trio could focus on what they needed to do, telling them she’d make sure no one unnecessary came to bother them. Augum was grateful. It was their last day and they needed the time together.

It was a sunny morning with not a cloud in sight—perfect training weather. They launched right into the 4th degree—Fear, Deafness, Confusion, Summon Minor Elemental, then worked backwards.

At lunch, Mr. Goss arrived with a basket of food and a sheaf of parchment. He made his presence known by gently clearing his throat.

Augum unclenched his fists, shoulders still tense from summoning Shield ten times in a row to block Bridget and Leera’s First Offensive. “Mr. Goss?”

Mr. Goss’ eyes travelled over the black pile of destroyed wood, a legacy of their many castings. “You would make for fearsome adversaries.”

Leera was hunched over with her hands resting on her knees, a drop of sweat falling from her forehead. “Any news, Mr. Goss?”

“There is. The arrangements for crate teleportation are set. The Eastspear Legion warlock is expected tomorrow morning. We must be ready by then. We will test fit you with the crate before supper tonight. Oh, and I thought you might want to have a last read.” He handed a panting Bridget the Blackhaven Herald.

“They still haven’t captured Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said, scanning the articles.

Mr. Goss smiled as he placed the basket on the ground before them. “I thought you would appreciate that bit of news. All right, I shall leave you to it. Good luck with training today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Goss,” Bridget replied absently, even though he had already departed. She chortled. “Hey, they supposedly found an Augum Stone only to discover it wasn’t you after all. Poor boy went through quite a spectacle, it seems. Paraded him about before presenting him to the Lord of the Legion himself, who had to confirm it wasn’t you.”

“Embarrassing,” Augum said while practicing moving two stones at the same time. “Anything about the tournament?”

Bridget sat down cross-legged, folding her blue robe underneath her, and resumed reading. “Just a bunch of bracket challenges.”

Leera sat beside her and leaned over to look. “Two divisions—
Lesser
and
Mid-range
. Ten degrees are battling.”

Augum let the rocks fall with a thud. “No
Advanced
or
Legendary
?”

“There never is,” Bridget explained, eyes darting across the parchment. “It’s considered beneath the dignity of the craft to have high-degree warlocks dueling each other for a silly trophy. Besides, there’d probably be too few combatants.”

Leera shrugged while digging around the basket. “I think it’d be neat, but what do I know.”

“Temper’s dueling,” Bridget said.

“Oh?” Leera toned between spoonfuls of potato stew. “Against who?”

“Don’t know, some boy.”

“Wish I was dueling her.”

Augum finally took a seat beside them. “And Robin—?”

“Also dueling.” Bridget frowned.

Augum reached into the basket and pulled out a small bowl of hot soup. He undid the linen covering. “What is it?”

“He’s attained his 4th degree.”

Leera choked on her stew. “
What?
How?”

“This might explain it.” Bridget began reading an excerpt. “ ‘Robin Scarson, considered the odds-on favorite in his degree, has recently revealed he has been training with the Lord of the Legion himself.’ ”

The girls glanced at Augum for his reaction.

“Great,” Augum only mumbled. But he still couldn’t understand how Robin, that lazy, spoiled brat of a donkey, was advancing so quickly, even with his father’s help. No way was he working as hard as they were. It had to be the Destiny Stone. Why in all of Sithesia had One Eye given it to him?

He dumped his spoon into his stew. “And why can’t we have something other than bland, boring potatoes for a change?”

Bridget gave him a sympathetic look. “We’re lucky to be eating at all.”

He knew she was right. The food shortages were so severe of late that everybody had been reduced to the staples. Word reached them the other day that even the Harouns had to make cutbacks, though Augum suspected it was only because Mr. Haroun finally put his foot down.

Leera resumed eating her stew. “They deserve each other. And who cares who he trains under, we’re there for other reasons.”

Augum said nothing, forcing himself to eat the stew. He was hungry, after all. Training always demanded a lot of energy, something that showed in their toned bodies.

They soon resumed their grueling training, working non-stop for hours until Mr. Goss returned.

“You three look exhausted,” he said, eyeing them as they sat gasping and sweaty. “Ready for the test-fitting?”

Augum stood and stretched out his sore limbs. “Ready.” He was nervous about tomorrow, though he didn’t want to admit it to the others. What would the ancient library of Antioc be like? Would it be dangerous? How was the Legion presence? Would someone recognize them? It was the last part that scared him most. They would have to take precautions. Keep their hoods up, that kind of thing.

Mr. Goss led them to the village. Bystanders gawked and smiled at the trio as they passed. Many said hello and bless you and good luck on your journey. There were lots of hands to shake, lots of sad but hopeful faces.

“Word sure gets around,” Leera muttered, giving a half-hearted smile at a toothless old man that kept bowing and repeating, “Bless the Resistance!”

“I am certain you can rest easy,” Mr. Goss said, waving at a middle-aged woman with a wide skirt and a wooden necklace. “Everyone here is on our side. This town has been mostly anti-Legion since the beginning.”

“Mostly?” Leera mouthed to Augum.

“Now it’s a bastion of resolve and community.” Mr. Goss gave them a cheery smile as he walked. “A full third of the book donations must have come from the Harouns, bless their hearts.”

Augum supposed that was why they built it in the Harouns cellar, that and the fact the cellar was probably the largest one in town. He glanced up at the house and spotted Malaika at the window. She ducked as soon as their eyes met. He shuddered. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to see her inside.

Mr. Goss slowed, a finger over his lips. “Erm, just a word of warning—Mrs. Haroun is not in the best of spirits, so just, ah, stay away from her if you can.”

When they came to the door, they heard shouting from within.

“… books! What of our daughter’s learning? The one you seem to think is some degenerate liar.”

“She takes after her mother, does she not? She lacks discipline.”

“Oh, sure, disrespect your own wife, like you always do.”

“That is not what I meant—”

“And discipline? Whose fault can that possibly be, Hanad? But by all means, give away our entire book collection, and while you are at it, donate our house too!”

There was an audible sigh. “It is not our entire book collection, and we can do with some charity in our lives. And as I said before, it is for an important and good cause—”

“Dear me.” Mr. Goss cleared his throat loudly before knocking on the door.

“Ah, this must be them. Clayborne—if you please.”

There were footsteps before the door opened. Clayborne, the white-haired servant, glanced at their blue robes as if checking to make sure their attire was appropriate, before surrendering a stiff bow. “Please follow me.”

Mr. and Mrs. Haroun stood in the parlor, avoiding each other’s gaze.

Mr. Haroun greeted them with a strained smile. “Good afternoon. Please allow Clayborne to take you to the cellar. I shall join you in but a moment.”

“Perhaps you should help yourself to whatever you like down there,” Mrs. Haroun said in lofty tones. “The Unnameables know how much ‘charity’ is needed around here.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Haroun,” Mr. Goss said with an awkward half-bow.

“Please, Albert, call me Hanad, we have worked on the crate too hard together to call each other by formal titles.”

“Goodness, I certainly am honored, Hanad.” Mr. Goss fumbled to push his spectacles up his nose as his eyes darted to Mrs. Haroun. “Uh, and what a splendid house this is indeed.”

“Do you need any of its planks?” Mrs. Haroun asked, arms crossed across her chest. “Perhaps you can make a second crate for our valuables.”

“Selma, that is enough—”

As the Harouns jabbed at each other, Augum spotted the head servant’s children—Annelise and Gabe, both as pale as ghosts, watching them with those pinkish eyes from the dining room. Annelise quickly glanced down at her feet, cheeks reddening. Gabe was casually staring at them. He had circles under his eyes. Augum subconsciously tensed his forearms.

Clayborne grabbed a lit silver candelabra and opened a door, revealing steps leading down to the cellar. “This way.”

“Shyneo,” Augum said almost subconsciously.

Clayborne gasped.

Augum dimmed his palm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Clayborne straightened his servant gown. “I was merely expecting … a warning.”

Mr. Goss placed a hand on Clayborne’s shoulder. “It takes a bit of getting used to, does it not?”

Clayborne gave the hand a sidelong look and Mr. Goss promptly withdrew it.

“Father, may we see them perform arcanery?” Gabe asked from the top of the stairs.

“I hardly think that is appropriate, Son, and mind your tongue unless you are spoken to.” Clayborne turned to Mr. Goss. “Please forgive the outburst, Mr. Goss, the boy—”

“—but Father, I wanted to become a warlock, not a stupid servant! I can even cast a spell, watch—”

“Gabe, I said no—! Now attend to the Harouns, I have this under control.”

But Gabe raised his hand in defiance of his father anyway, and with a mighty strain that plainly showed on his face, he managed to make it momentarily ripple to life with lightning.

“I am terribly sorry for that,” Clayborne cut in, “he shall surely be punished later—”

“You’re a lightning warlock!” Bridget said.

Gabe’s angular face lit up with a glorious smile. “I am? Like the Lord of the Legion? I mean, of course I am! I have always known it!”

“Cease speaking immediately, Son, else you shall feel the back of my hand—”

“Mr. Clayborne, your son is training wild,” Bridget went on, “if he continues to do so, he may injure himself or even—”

“Then he shall deserve the injury!” Clayborne’s face had reddened. He cleared his throat and lightly tapped at his cheeks. “Forgive me, I … I am quite bothered by his …
supernatural
… tendencies. It is the devil’s doing, I am sure of it—all witchery is.”

“But Mr. Clayborne,” Leera interrupted, “arcanery has been around for thousands and thousands of years—”

“So has murder and theft. That does not make it right or holy. Unnameables forgive us for such heathenry. The devil will take us all for our sins and our lack of piety.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Please, this way.” He turned his back and descended, indicating an end to the discussion.

Bridget gave Gabe a look but followed. The boy’s face was crestfallen.

Augum lingered a moment while the others passed. Part of him wanted to give Gabe a few sharp words for his brazen attempts with Leera. “Be extremely careful casting wild arcanery,” he said instead.