Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (51 page)

Leera made a
poof
gesture with her hands. “Magic.”

“I thought you said—”

“Never mind.”

Charissa folded her arms across her chest. “Wish you weren’t here.”

“I bet you do.”

“Just ignore her,” Malaika said, mirroring the arm-folding gesture. “She thinks she’s so clever.”

Charissa gave a little head bob, hair bouncing. “She’s just jealous she can’t be a spy like us.”

Leera shook her head, not bothering to respond.

Bridget returned to spooning her soup. “Can we just … stop?”

They finished their lunch and parted ways, Malaika and Charissa giving Augum and Bridget a warm goodbye, while turning a cold shoulder to Leera, who merely rolled her eyes.

“You needn’t press their buttons so much,” Bridget said as they filed out of the Supper Hall.

“Can’t help it. Those buttons are just so … big and pushable.”

Bridget sighed but said no more on the subject.

As they paced the dimly-lit halls on their way to the portal room, they came across Secretary Klines. The gray-robed beetle-like woman glanced around to make sure they were alone before approaching them.

“How are you faring?” she asked in her squeaky voice. Her eyes, magnified to absurd proportions by her thick spectacles, traveled over their faces as if she was worried they may be coming down with something.

“Uh, fine, Secretary Klines,” Augum replied. He had a thousand questions, but didn’t want to voice any of them in such a public place.

Klines waited for a young gray-robed attendant to pass before quietly saying, “I hear word of a disturbance in the Hall of Ancestry. Secretary Watts is quite upset about a number of items being out of place. She seems to think three necrophytes, who she swears are ‘up to no good’ had something to do with it.” There was a hint of a proud smile.

“She’s a bit of a pest,” Leera said.

“Indeed.”

“Secretary Klines,” Bridget interrupted. “Can … can we ask you a tiny favor?”

“Library tradition dictates that no hints be—”

“No, not that. Um, we were kind of hoping you could … remove Secretary Watts from her post a little early tonight.”

Klines studied Bridget a moment before the corner of her tiny mouth curved with a smile. “I shall see what I can do.” Her giant eyes flicked to a spot behind them. “Ah, Secretary Watts—”

Augum and the girls did not dare to turn around. They had not even heard her approach, as if she had been spying on them.

“Secretary Klines,” Watts said in her gratingly snippy voice. “How do you do. I see you have found the trouble-makers I have been searching for. I am sure you are aware of the disturbance in the Hall of Ancestry—?”

“I am.”

“Further, I have discovered that my walker had damage to its chest. There were numerous scratch marks along the floor. I find this a most grievously disturbing occurrence, and I demand an immediate investigation by the head office, and these—” Augum saw a chubby hand with long sharp nails flick between himself, Bridget and Leera, “—be remanded into custody and questioned. I believe them to be—” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Trying to get in to the you-know-what.”

Secretary Klines placed her hands behind her back. “I see. I, too, have been informed of something interesting. It seems there have been reports of damage to some of the display pieces in the Hall of Ancestry—”

Augum could sense Watts ballooning. “Quite right! There was a statue of that villainous traitor—”

“I speak of a wide variety of statues and display pieces. I hear it on good authority that someone’s walker may be damaging valuable property.”

“But surely you do not—”

“There is a
rumor
, Secretary Watts.”

“A … a rumor?” Watts sputtered.

“A rumor that a certain secretary has been experimenting with her walker in a certain very fragile and very valuable hall.”

“Preposterous—”

“Necromantic experimentation is strictly restricted to the training grounds, Secretary Watts. Failure to abide by this rule will result in immediate expulsion from one’s duties.”

“This is absurd, I do not … ‘experiment’ with my walker! My administration of the walker are totally in accordance with Legion protocols.”

“Shall I arrange for you to have a word with Senior Arcaneologist Ning again, perhaps?”

Watts was now speaking very fast. “Oh, no, Secretary Klines, that would be most unnecessary. Senior Arcaneologist Ning is a very, very busy woman and I wouldn’t want to disturb her with such trivial matters. I’ll … I’ll investigate these rumors and make sure there will not be any more trouble in the, uh … the hall. Good day, Secretary Klines. Hail to the Legion.”

“Secretary Watts.” Klines watched her waddle off in a huff, whispering, “She will be doubly suspicious. I will not be able to help you with that favor now. I suggest you find alternative means to accomplish any … goals … you may have. Good day.” She strode past them before they could even thank her.

Bridget tapped her lips. “We’ll have to figure something out. Watts is going to be a thorn. She’ll probably have extra guards and walkers there tonight.”

“Lucky she didn’t see my cut,” Leera said, dabbing at her forehead. Augum agreed. It was small, but enough to warrant further suspicion from Watts, and that’s the last thing they needed right now.

A gray-robed crier strode through the hall, calling out, “Hear ye, hear ye—the second afternoon bell tolls!”

“We’re late for registration,” Leera said. “Come on.”

Quarter-finals

It was a cloudy and windy day outside, the cobbled streets still wet from last night’s thunderstorm. Due to the Heralds, people recognized The Hood even more now.

“Uh, thank you,” Augum said to an elderly couple who had told him he was a stand-up fellow for fighting for the Legion.

“I’ll try,” he replied to a young girl who proudly flared her single ice ring after telling him to “Kick that mean jerkface in the bum”.

“He’s going to beat you to a pulp!” one older necrophyte boy shouted, obviously a fan of the other boy.

It was a tedious and odd situation—they couldn’t risk lowering their hoods for fear of being recognized as the most wanted young warlocks in all of Solia, yet here Augum was being recognized for an altogether different reason—fighting in an arena under an assumed name.

The noise of a cheering crowd soon reached their ears as they hurried through the streets. Sudden shouts and swells indicated a match was underway. They paid the entrance fees (Bridget was looking worried now every time she rooted around her coin pouch), received their chit only to hand it to a bored-looking guard, and entered. Augum registered for his fight. Leera pointed out where they were going to sit. She gave him a tight hug and the girls both wished him luck before disappearing into the crowd.

Augum strode past another guard and on through the tunnel, feeling the energy of the crowd above. They were stamping their feet, chanting, “LO-SERS SHALL! BEND THE KNEE! WI-NNERS FIND! ETER-NI-TY!”

“You’re late,” Secretary Sharma said, checking off her parchment. “Have a seat.”

A hulking necrophyte boy with a small mop of frizzy hair immediately strode over to Augum. He cracked his thick neck from left to right and flashed a gap-toothed smile. “You’re The Hood, huh?” He made a snapping gesture. “Like a twig. That’s going to be you.”

Augum wanted to roll his eyes so hard. “What are you, like, thirty?”

“Nineteen.”

“You look older.”

“I told you I’m—”

“You should have a cane.”

“You’re mincemeat.”

Augum was feeling immature. “And you’re so old there’s moss growing on your head.”

The boy took a menacing step forward. “What’d you say about my hair?”

“Settle down, Brutus,” Secretary Sharma said absently, ticking off her list as another competitor entered the room.

“He thinks he all bad because he beat some wimpy girl from Canterra. She don’t even know any necromancy! Look at him. He’s a gangly nobody from a nobody town, and by the time I’m through with him,
my
name will be in the Herald.”

Augum couldn’t help himself. He had no patience for this kind of stuff anymore. “You talk a big game. Let’s see if you play one.”

“I’m going to—”

“To what? Bore me to death with idle threats?”

The boy smashed a fist into an open palm. “You’re
so
dead—”

“
Brutus!
Sit. Down.” Secretary Sharma’s hands were on her hips. After the boy reluctantly sat down, she muttered to herself while returning to her parchment, “The stuff I have to put up with.”

The boy kept eyeing Augum, whispering insults and threats when Secretary Sharma was out of hearing range. “… destroy you like I did that other fool yesterday …”

Typical intimidation just to get him spooked before the fight. The boy was probably a spoiled brat who always got his way, someone who wasn’t used to being stood up to. Augum couldn’t wait to get in that arena. But he had to prepare first …

Augum refused to get distracted as the boy muttered on with inanities. Instead, he kept his head down, mentally going over his spells as well as strategizing his initial attack. The boy was twice his size but Augum knew that meant nothing in a warlock duel. If anything, the constant mutterings spurred him on.

They mutedly heard the crowd swell as Giovanni proclaimed yet another victor.

Secretary Sharma snapped her head at the exit. “Augustus, Brutus—you’re up.”

Augum strode down the tunnel leading to the arena, Brutus right beside him, scowling and still making threats. “Going to make you cry like a baby, crawl back to your mommy and—” Suddenly he stopped to listen to Giovanni’s voice.

“… a nineteen-year-old 4th degree ice warlock from the Academy of Arcane Arts … representing the Legion outfit of the Stone Quarter … He’s known to choke his opponents into submission … please welcome … Brutus ‘The Brute’ Johnson!”

The crowd roared as Brutus flashed Augum an arrogant
Yeah, you know what’s coming
look. He then strutted out into the arena, waving at the crowd as if he’d already won.

“His opponent … hailing from the little known village of Everscale …” The crowd was on its feet. “A rare lightning necrophyte with impressive arcane dexterity … you’ve read about him in the Herald … the mysterious … the reclusive … Augustus ‘The Hood’ Westwooooood!”

Augum strode out, heart pumping, head low. He stole a glance at Erika in the judge’s booth, but still did not see the divining rod. He glanced the other way at Bridget and Leera, who cheered him on. Malaika and Charissa were in the stands too, but he didn’t bother looking for them.

Augum faced Brutus as Giovanni went through the usual rule pronouncements.

Brutus, smirking and cracking his knuckles, nodded at the weapon racks. “Not going to need those.”

The crowd tittered at his amplified joke.

“As per tradition, let the combatants give respect,” Giovanni said.

Augum flexed his arm, allowing his four lightning rings to burst forth, then gave a slight bow, never taking his eyes off his meaty opponent.

Brutus, after seeing his lightning rings—and perhaps the look on Augum’s face—hesitated, but flashed four rings of ice. He didn’t bother bowing though.

Giovanni took a step back and gestured dramatically at the boy. “Are you ready?” Brutus nodded. He gestured the other way at Augum. “And are
you
ready?” Augum curled his fists and gave a slight nod. Giovanni made a chopping gesture. “Fight!” and the bell rang.

Augum quickly and violently shoved at the air. “BAKA!” completely catching Brutus off-guard with the force of the attack. Augum glimpsed a stupid look on the boy’s face as he slammed into the stone wall, crumpling in a heap at its base.

He did not get back up.

The crowd fell totally silent for a moment before roaring.

“Aaand we have a knock-out!” Giovanni shouted, striding over and placing a hand on Augum’s heaving shoulder. “That had to be one of the quickest knock-outs I have ever seen! A vicious shove attack. The Brute has been brutalized!”

The crowd laughed as two Legion healers jogged out to attend to the boy.

Augum was a little disappointed. He was looking forward to showing Brutus a little more of what he was made of.

“Congratulations, you continue to wow.” Giovanni allowed the crowd to clap and cheer before continuing. “The Brute is known to be a difficult opponent on and off the arena floor. Did he have a lot to say to you in the dressing room?”

“He did some talking.”

The crowd chortled.

“But you’re standing here and he isn’t.” Giovanni waited for his reaction.

“I am,” Augum finally said.

“Two more matches to go, think you can take the semis?”

“I’ll try.”

“Well there we have it, folks. A contestant of few words but quick off the draw.” He lifted Augum’s arm. “Advancing to tomorrow’s semi-finals … the mysterious … the arcanely agile … Augustus ‘The Hood’ Westwooooood!”

Back at the Library of Antioc

“Weren’t you supposed to
not
draw unnecessary attention?” Leera said once they had left the arena, leaving Malaika and Charissa behind to continue spying.

Augum shrugged. “I had a plan to start off losing, but it didn’t quite work out that way.”

“Well now the whole city will be talking about your super fast knock-out.” She sighed. “As if they hadn’t been going on enough about you already. Anyway, Robin was in the stands watching you fight. Saw him brush off the win to Temper Buttwax, that cow. I’m sure he thought you got lucky or something.”

“Before we go to the Training Room,” Bridget began, giving Leera a disapproving look for continually twisting Temper Butterwax’s last name, “do you mind if we go to the library to do some more research? I’d like to study a bit more on symbolism.”

Leera groaned, mumbling, “Only if I can bring a pillow this time …”

They eventually crossed the drawbridge, passed through the bustling entrance hall, and on to the
Ordinaries
section of the library—the area with the large gargoyle statue. After a few mind-numbing hours of study in a room with a pile of dusty books, someone peeked into the room.