Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (71 page)

“She’ll take gargoyle coins though, right?” Leera asked.

“Not sure.” Bridget began scanning the shelves.

Augum saw neatly-written labels, each with two numbers, one in the bottom left corner and the other in the bottom right. But none of the spells looked familiar, until he ran across one he finally recognized.

“Found Slam,” he said. “Left number is two—”

“Corresponding to the degree,” Bridget said.

“And the right number is twenty.”

“That … that can’t mean we have to pay
twenty gargoyle coins
, can it?” Leera asked.

“Let’s find out.” Augum carefully removed the scroll and marched it back down the aisle, the girls following.

“How much for this scroll?” he asked upon finding Guinevere micro-adjusting the books they had walked by earlier.

“For thee 2nd degree spell of Slam thou shalt pay twenty coin of the gargoyle.”

The trio groaned.

“Wait, this is a library,” Bridget whispered.

Leera flashed her an acerbic look. “A library? Really?” She glanced around theatrically. “What in Sithesia gave you that idea?”

Bridget ignored her. “Guinevere, what are the borrow rates for study?”

“Thy 1st to thy 5th degrees beg one gargoyle coin. Thy 6th to thy 10th degrees beg three gargoyle coins. Thy 11th to thy 15th degrees beg seven gargoyle coins. Thy 16th to thy 20th degrees beg ten gargoyle coins. Thou may borrow up to a tenday and must theretofore return thy scroll with nary blight to condition.”

Leera idly drew at the ground with a toe. “And … what happens if we, you know,
accidentally
use one?”

“A most witless reckoning thee caster shalt behold!”

The trio exchanged dark looks.

“Thanks, Guinevere,” Augum said.

“At your service, mine youthful lord and fledgling ladies.”

They made their way back to the scroll section.

Leera sighed. “What are we looking for again?”

Bridget was already tracing the labels with a finger. “Group Teleport. It’s 17th degree so it’ll cost all ten coin.”

“Lucky we didn’t have to pay the entrance fee,” Augum said, scanning the labels. He couldn’t imagine trying to labor over finding ten more coins … or attempting to steal the scroll. Who knew what might happen then.

The shelves were long and went from floor to ceiling, taking quite some time to navigate.

“Found something similar to Group Teleport,” Augum said at last, tapping a cubby near the ceiling. “Portal. 17th degree.”

Bridget strode over. “That might actually work better.”

“One hundred and seventy coins,” Leera said. “Imagine spending a month getting that coin together? Assuming you even survived down there …”

Augum slowly withdrew the scroll. “Now we need a plan.”

“I’ll cast it if I have to,” Leera said. “I don’t care what happens.”

Bridget took the scroll from him. “No, I’m going to cast it, and I don’t want to hear a single word otherwise.”

“What if, you know …” Leera left the rest unsaid.

“I’ll risk it. Now sit, we have a lot to discuss and plan.”

“Here? Now?”

Bridget shrugged. “Might as well.”

Preparations

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, as the trio sat cross-legged on the dusty floor, Augum ran his fingers through his hair and expelled a tired breath.

“Sounds crazier than ever,” he muttered.

They had spent countless hours studying the scroll and coming up with a detailed plan. They were going to head back to their room to get some sleep, during which Bridget would tune to the Exot orb. Then the trio would have a final meeting with Malaika and Charissa; contact Caireen Lavo using the Exot orb; get to the tournament in time, where the girls would strategically position themselves in the arena tunnel; Augum would defeat Robin; Bridget would cast the Portal spell in a timely manner; and most daringly, as the trophy was being presented to Augum by Erika Scarson, he was to steal the divining rod. All this assumed they got out of the Arcane library undiscovered, that Bridget was successful in casting the Portal spell, and that Augum could beat Robin and snatch the divining rod before somehow getting to the portal, avoiding, of course, getting blown to smithereens by every warlock in the entire arena.

“Just toss me into a pit with every wraith in the kingdom,” Augum added. “I think I’d stand better odds.”

“We take it one step at a time,” Bridget said.

He raised a finger. “No, wait, I have a better idea. You two shove me into the abyss.” He dropped his finger, nodding in a satisfied manner.

The girls stared at him blankly, before Leera cracked up giggling.

“All right, Aug,” Bridget said, “I think everyone here understands how daring this plan is. Just remember, we’ll have the Exot orb and rings, so we’ll be able to communicate. If circumstances change, we change with them.”

Augum rubbed his face, something he’d been doing a lot lately. “I can write the headline in the Herald for you now. ‘Idiot tries to be hero. Gets slaughtered.’ ”

Leera placed her arm around his neck and dragged him over with an elbow, so that he lay in her lap. “Since when did you become so cynical?”

“Since the odds went from
improbable
to
impossible
.” He idly played with her hand. “How am I going to prevent Robin from recognizing me?” Let alone defeat the murdering knave …

Bridget, whose head was resting on her hands, suddenly brightened. “You don’t.”

Augum sat up as he and Leera stared at her with identical dumbfounded expressions.

Bridget continued smiling. “Hear me out.” She accented her points with open palms. “You
reveal
to everyone in that arena that you are Augum Stone, and you’re there to claim the honor of the kingdom.

Leera reached over to her. “Let me feel your forehead, I think you’re coming down with a vicious fever—”

Bridget swatted her off. “I’m serious here! Think about it—they’re going to find out anyway. They
won’t
stop Augum, not unless they want to look weak in front of the whole kingdom.” She paused to look between them. “This is the final of the most prestigious warlock tournament in Solia, maybe all of Sithesia. Robin Scarson, the most famous necrophyte in the kingdom versus Augum Stone, the
infamous
villain, and the Lord of the Legion’s own wayward son. The Legion will want to prove their necromancy could best the old arcanery. It would send a strong message to everyone if Augum lost publicly, that’s why they will let him fight—!”

Bridget leaned forward. “But here’s the trick. If Augum wins, they’d also
have
to let him claim his prize, because there’s one thing about the crowd—they want to see an honorable end. They want order. Most importantly, the Legion will want to look legitimate.” She took a long breath. “You can stop looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.”

Leera blinked. “I foresee a future in politics for you.”

Bridget wrinkled her nose as if a rotten stench had entered the room. “Euch.”

Augum resumed rubbing his face, which seemed to help him think.

Bridget prodded him with a finger. “Thoughts?”

“I don’t know … I just don’t know.”

“Tell you what. See how you feel in the moment.”

Augum’s brows rose. “ ‘In the moment’?”

“Yeah.” Bridget stood, dusted herself off. She extended her hands to them both, hauling them up. Then she fixed her gaze firmly on Augum. “You stood before the entire Henawa tribe and spoke out to save a man who once repeatedly beat you with his belt, giving you all those scars.” She picked up the Portal scroll. “Now replace that tribe with an entire kingdom,” and she padded off.

Augum and Leera gaped.

“I swear she has, like, Attyla the Mighty blood in her or something,” Leera muttered.

“That wouldn’t surprise me in the least. But … I’m worried about her.”

“The scroll?”

He nodded. What if it killed her? Even the thought of it made him want to throw up.

“I’m worried too.” Her hand found his, squeezing tightly. “Come on.”

* * *

“A tenday thou shalt have, not a moment more,” Guinevere finished saying to Bridget after she was paid all ten of their gargoyle coins.

“Right,” Bridget said, scroll tucked under her arm. “Let’s get back to our room.”

They returned to the vestibule. The dwarves allowed them passage by shuffling aside.

“You’d think they’d have something more menacing guarding the Restricted Room,” Leera said, skipping by the lead dwarf holding the stinkroot. “Not going to get me a second time, you little fiend,” she hissed at it.

“Hoods up.” Bridget awkwardly stuffed the scroll under her robe then placed her lit hand on the etched oval. “Brie Sparrows. General Quarters.” The portal ripped to life. She gestured grandly. “After you.”

Augum went first. He came out on the other side—and slammed right into the back of a Legion soldier with a shaved head.

“What the—” The soldier turned in surprise and Augum instantly recognized him—he was the lieutenant that had led them to that necrophyte meeting in the Training Room.

“The Hood—” the lieutenant said in surprise, high cheekbones hardening. “Why are you up and about? You know there’s a curfew, Necrophyte!”

A moment later, Leera and Bridget stumbled out of the portal, which closed behind them.

“Three of you—? Where did you come—” The lieutenant froze as he spotted something at Bridget’s feet. Augum saw what he was looking at—the scroll had fallen out of her robe and was lying on the floor.

“It was you—” The soldier glanced at the three of them as if seeing them anew. “It was you who slew the wraiths …!” He drew his Dreadnought long sword, which immediately burst with flame. “Don’t you try anything, this is a brand new—”

Augum felt his four rings flare around his arm. “Disablo!” and the sword twirled out of the man’s hand, clanging to the ground and instantly snuffing out.

The lieutenant stared at it dumbly.

“Shyneo!” Augum called, slapping the oval engraving, speaking quickly. “Augustus Westwood. Labyrinth.” The portal opened. He shot a look at the girls, who had already positioned themselves on the other side of the Legionnaire.

The lieutenant retrieved his blade. “You’ll never get away—”

“BAKA!” the girls chorused, and the man was sent flying through the portal. Augum let go of the oval and a moment later it disappeared.

They froze, listening, but no other sound came, no portal opened.

“He’s not a warlock,” Augum whispered. “I remember in the arena—he described himself as an
Ordinary
.”

“Then he’ll have a hard time finding his way out of the labyrinth,” Leera said.

Augum gave her a grave look. “Unless he knows how to use portals and actually manages to find a portal rune.”

“Not in total darkness he won’t,” Leera said. “He can’t cast Shine, remember?”

Bridget secured the scroll. “It’s too dangerous for us to sleep here. We should evacuate as soon as the drawbridge is raised.”

Leera shook her head. “But if Augum doesn’t get sleep—if none of us do—we’ve got no chance.
None
. You know that.”

“Not to mention I won’t be tuned to the Exot orb,” Bridget muttered. “You’re right.”

“Well we can’t stay here,” Augum said. “Let’s get the Exot orb and make a decision then.” What if it had been discovered? But hadn’t Bridget cast Object Alarm on it? Regardless, he tried not to think about the consequences of walking into a trap. It was a pattern of late, trying not to think about stuff that
might
happen.

They walked as fast as they dared down the dimly lit corridor, passing room after room.

“Heads up,” Leera whispered, tightening her hood. A patrolling gray-robed attendant strode their way.

The man stopped in front of them. “And why might you be out of your rooms? Surely you are aware of the strict curfew.”

“We wanted to squeeze in some training,” Leera blurted. “This is ‘The Hood’ and he has the finals coming up against Robin Scarson. Some grumpy lieutenant told us to turn right around and go back to our room, so that’s where we’re going.”

The attendant glanced at Augum. “Ah, that explains the hoods. Well as much as I dislike that lieutenant fellow, I dare say he was right—you cannot train at this hour.” He gave a wistful sigh. “At one time the library was open to such things. That time has passed. Protocol demands I march you straight to the constabulary.” He dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned forward. “But I would much rather see you beat that … evil snob.”

Augum gave a firm nod. “I’m certainly going to try, sir.”

“Come, I shall escort you to your room.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Most welcome, just do not let me or anyone catch you about before the seventh morning bell, as there have been … mishaps. Anyhow, that is only three hours away. Then you can train your hearts out.”

“Yes, sir.”

The attendant followed them to their room. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Leera said, quietly closing the door after him.

The trio exhaled. The torchlight of the city filtered through the dark window, throwing dim light against the ceiling.

Charissa sat up in bed. “Who is it?”

“Just us,” Augum said.

Bridget withdrew the scroll, placed it on a table, and kneeled beside the bed. “Still here,” she said in a relieved voice, carefully dragging the pine box out from under the bed.

Malaika got up and rushed over to Augum, trailing the blanket she had wrapped herself in. “Where have you been—? We were so worried! The guards are like bees in the corridors—” She reached out to him, only to have her hand smacked away by Leera.

Malaika recoiled. “I was just—”

“You were just nothing,” Leera snapped, glaring.

Augum forgot they had a fight earlier that evening, resulting in Leera getting banned from the Supper Hall. Last thing he wanted was drama at this point. There were important issues to discuss.

“We have to talk,” he said.

Malaika swallowed. “What about?”

“We’re all in a lot of danger,” Bridget said, striding over with the box.

“What’s that?” Charissa asked.

“Soon as they raise the drawbridge, you need to flee the city,” Augum said, hoping to distract her. The less she knew the better. “It’s urgent.”