Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) Read online

  Haylee, who had been practicing in the background casting Shield over and over, lost her balance again and screamed in frustration. She took the cane and started beating a small boulder with it, cursing with each whack, until the cane shattered.

  “The rock attack you or something?” Augum said gently.

  “I’m going to bed. Sick of this. Head’s killing me anyway.” Haylee placed her hands over the cane. “Apreyo.” It reformed. She picked it up and hobbled off without another word.

  Bridget emerged with flint and steel and proceeded to light the fire. “Where’s Haylee?”

  Leera shrugged. “Had another fit.”

  “She all right?”

  Leera shrugged again.

  Bridget sighed, blew on a spark. “Don’t forget Centarro.”

  “Oh yeah.” It was his favorite spell.

  “And do something different with it.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, try chronocasting or something.”

  “Dare you to try simulcasting,” Leera said with a cheeky grin.

  “We don’t want him to hurt himself, Lee.”

  “I’ll try chronocasting,” Augum said, knowing casting one spell and then another while the original was still in effect was easier—after all, they had been doing it with Centarro for some time. Simulcasting on the other hand—casting one elemental spell and one standard spell in the same instance—was on the Mrs. Stone level of complexity.

  Leera flicked her hand in a practiced movement. “Shyneo.” It surged to life with a watery glow.

  The fire finally caught and Bridget stopped blowing on it, joining Leera. The rule was when one of them cast Centarro, the other two would be there in support, as the side effects left the caster in a vulnerable and stupid state.

  Augum rubbed his head, urging the dull thudding to die down. As rehearsed as he was with these spells, developing arcane stamina was a lifetime pursuit. He examined the area around him in thoughtful detail just as Thomas, his deceased Leyan great-grandfather, had taught him. He felt the cloth of his new royal blue apprentice robe between his fingers. He chased the smoothness of the golden silk rope around his waist. He listened to the quiet trickle of the stream; to a distant woodpecker tapping at a trunk; to the occasional clump of snow falling to the ground. He caught the attentive watchfulness of the girls—Leera’s arched brows, her affectionate gaze, her slightly poor posture; Bridget’s perpetually tired and worried face, the reflection of her palm in her hazel eyes, her soft and caring expression. He shut his eyes a moment before letting the words spill over his tongue.

  “Centeratoraye xao xen.”

  The inner arcane energies instantly sharpened, as did the world when he opened his eyes. The first stars overhead became bubbling pricks of light, the evergreen canopy a blanket of green needles interacting in endless predictable patterns. He was aware of everything, from the blood rushing through his veins to the almost imperceptible pulse of the girls’ lit palms, tied to the beat of their hearts.

  First, he formulated a plan on how to deal with the side effects—he would lie down and watch the stars. Next, he ran through a mental list of spells, trying to figure out which two to cast. But as he looked past the girls into the dark forest, all thought of chronocasting and simulcasting disappeared from his mind. He recalled Occulus’ silent undead army and envisioned it standing in the pitch darkness of Bahbell with such clarity that all he need do was reach out and touch their matte black Dreadnought armor.

  Do something different, Bridget had said. Do something different …

  A new thought occurred to him, an ordinarily impossible thought—what if he could teleport? After all, casting beyond one’s level was possible and sometimes encouraged!

  His mind raced under the influence of Centarro unlike ever before, applying the patterns he had learned from every single spell, as well as the gestures he had seen other warlocks perform. Like a word on the tip of his tongue, he knew there was something to it; all he needed to do was—

  “Augum?” Bridget said, concern written on her face.

  Too slow. They were too slow with their thoughts and he did not have the time to explain. Yes, he appeared to just be standing there, but his mind … his mind was alive.

  The thoughts slammed on top of one another as his arcane energies built up with each new understanding, each new connection. Yes, it was wild casting. So what if he did not know the trigger word or the gesture or the exact series of cognitive functions? All he had to do was start small. The important thing was that he believed. That he knew it was possible!

  Centarro would soon expire, but his arcane energies were peaking. He reached for a spot across the shallow stream, already envisioning himself there. The wild arcanery exploded over his senses like a wildfire, rupturing his very being. His vision and body suddenly yanked forward with such violence he instantly blacked out.

  * * *

  “Fates and damnation, Aug, what did you do?” Leera asked in a shaky voice when Augum opened his eyes. His throbbing head was in her lap, every part of him aching.

  “Apreyo,” a pale Bridget said, hands folded over his robe. He saw it stitch back together seamlessly—apparently he had torn it somehow.

  Leera wiped his nose with a cloth. There was blood on it when she took it away.

  “Augum, what did you do?” It was Bridget that asked this time. Her face looked as stern as Mrs. Stone’s.

  He sat up a little too quickly, wincing from the sharp stabbing in his head. When he saw where he was, his face lit up with a victorious grin. “I’m on the other side of the stream!” All right, maybe not at the exact spot where he had intended, but still—

  Bridget’s brows crossed. “Augum Stone, did you just try casting Teleport?”

  He swallowed, suddenly realizing the absolute stupidity of it. “Um, seemed like a good idea at the time …”

  Leera threw her hands up. “I can’t believe how dumb that was! Teleport’s a what—” and she looked to Bridget with exasperation.

  “—a 9th degree spell, Augum Stone,” Bridget said. “Let me repeat myself. That was a 9th. Degree. Spell. You could have ripped yourself to pieces, or appeared in a tree, or—”

  “—I know, I know, I’m sorry. It was dumb. I … I don’t know what I was thinking.” It really did seem like a good idea at the time.

  “Downright stupid is what it was.” Bridget was glaring at him while stabbing a finger at his chest. “Stupid and unlike you. You should have known better. We’ve got enough on our plate with Reflect, Cron, and the entire 4th degree, and you go and do something so—”

  “—stupid, I know. Sorry.” She was right, as usual.

  Leera dropped him to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “Sorry? Sorry? That’s instant death, Aug. There’s no coming back from that. Don’t you ever—” She was punching him on the shoulder with each word. “Do. That. Again!”

  “I won’t, I won’t!” He rubbed his battered arm. It hurt to see their scared faces. He felt his insides curdle with shame. It was the dumbest thing he had ever attempted.

  Another punch. “Ever!” Leera shook her head at him, eyes moist. “No wonder you lightning warlocks die so much—you’re all crazy, stupid fools.” She jabbed at his chest, something that’s been happening a lot lately. “Never. Again.”

  “All right, never again, I’m sorry!”

  She gave him a sorrowful look before scoffing, flinging the cloth at his head, and stomping off to tend the fire.

  Augum slumped, wincing from the drumming pain, and dabbed at his nose.

  Bridget drew her legs in, watching him. “What were you thinking?” she asked quietly. “That was … unlike you.”

  “I don’t know, I guess I … I guess I actually believed I could do it.”

  “You did do it, and yes it’s impressive, but it was an extremely foolish risk. You can’t just …” She flipped her hands. “… cast wild arcanery on whim, Augum.” She sighed and glanced over at Leera, who stabbe
d the fire repeatedly with a stick. “We’re all she has in this world now, you know that, right?”

  Augum felt a queasy rush. He could deal with being hunted by his father, but hearing he was half of Leera’s entire world sounded like a terrible amount of responsibility. And there he was being an utter idiot. What had he been thinking?

  “I’m glad you two like each other in that way,” Bridget said with a bittersweet smile, “I really am, but I’m worried. You can’t let it distract you from your studies, either of you. Our lives depend on it.”

  There she went being right again. Truth was, he’d been thinking about it a lot—but he was not about to give up spending time with Leera or trying not to like her in that way. Every time her fingers curled around his, butterflies zoomed around in his stomach. When he felt her soft lips, looked into those dark eyes, or held her delicate hand … he felt alive. He could not put the feelings into words, but it was something he could not change.

  “You need to focus, Augum, and prepare. Look at me.”

  He glanced into her eyes. The worry on her face was killing him.

  “Focus and prepare,” she repeated softly.

  He nodded. “You mean prepare for …?”

  “You know for what.”

  “Nana’s never going to get caught.” His thrumming heart said otherwise though. “She’d never let them win.” But they might force it …

  Bridget gently rested a hand on his forearm. “We must learn to become more independent. We must trust each other, train hard, and find a way to stop your father. I know we can do it. Mrs. Stone knows we can do it too, that’s why she’s trusting us with such a dangerous quest. I know we can figure out how to use the Agonex. I know we can learn Cron.”

  She’s been very serious lately. “Hope so, Bridge.” He thought about the bronze disk. Was it safe here? Mrs. Stone had left it with them, explaining she did not want it to fall into the enemy’s hands should they finally catch up to her.

  Bridget watched him a moment before getting up and dusting herself off. “Tomorrow we learn our 4th degree elemental spell with Mr. Harvus.” She offered him a hand.

  He took it and hoisted himself up. “Looking forward to it.”

  “At least try to sound more enthusiastic? Come on, I think we can still squeeze in another round of training before bed. We especially need to work on Reflect. All of us.”

  He groaned. “Hate that spell …”

  Unexpected Arrival

  The next morning brought heavy cloud cover. Augum, Bridget, Leera, Mr. Goss and his son, Leland, ate breakfast at the Okeke cabin, a daily ritual. Sometimes Haylee and Chaska joined them, but not today. Leera told Augum they probably got in another fight, but for all he knew, Ms. Singh could have drafted her to help around her scribe shop, as she oft tended to do.

  “Pass the salt, please,” Mr. Goss said with a smile.

  Augum handed the saltcellar to Bridget, who handed it to Mr. Goss.

  Jengo placed his fork on the plate. “Today’s the day. Hardly slept. Can’t even eat.”

  Leera tormented her eggs. “What doom awaits you today?”

  “Is it Lover’s Day already?” Mr. Okeke asked absently, pouring himself a steaming cup of tea with one hand while holding the Blackhaven Herald with the other.

  “That’s tomorrow, Father. Today … today is more special—”

  “Don’t let Priya hear you say that,” Bridget cut in.

  “That’s not what I meant—of course I love Priya, it’s just that this has nothing to do with her.”

  Mr. Goss made sure his son—who was again playing with his favorite toy, the Agonex—found his eggs. “What is so special about today? Put that away, Leland, I do not want you playing with it at breakfast.”

  Jengo tapped the table with a flourish, making his father’s cup dance in its saucer. “Today Augum, Bridget and Leera learn their first summoning spell!”

  Mr. Okeke rescued the cup before it turned over. He sighed and resumed reading the crinkled parchment.

  Leera tore her oatcake into manageable portions. “I’d be looking forward to it if we were learning the spell with Mrs. Stone instead of Harvus.”

  “Oh, come now, Leopold cannot be that bad,” Mr. Goss said as he poured himself a cup of tea.

  Mr. Okeke’s skeptical eyes appeared from above the parchment for a moment, but he said nothing.

  “Mr. Goss, I beg you, come to just one of our training sessions and you’ll—”

  “Stop exaggerating, Lee,” Bridget cut in. “He really isn’t that bad, Mr. Goss, he’s just … particular.”

  “You’re only saying that because you’re his favorite,” Leera said, “and you even know what he thinks of women in general—”

  While the girls argued, Augum glanced over at the Blackhaven Herald. He wondered if there was any news about the tournament, or his father, or especially, the search for Mrs. Stone.

  Augum learned that the Blackhaven Herald was crafted in the wee hours of each morning and hurriedly copied using arcane quills. Hired warlocks would then teleport to all the towns and constabularies, dropping off bundles. From there, couriers distributed them to the surrounding villages by horse. Apparently, being a warlock journalist used to be a fun job until the Legion started dictating what was written. Back in Willowbrook, the Herald was rarely seen, declared to be promoting witchery. Except, of course, when there was important news. Not that many of the villagers could read.

  “… but I’m sure Mr. Harvus was only trying to teach you a lesson in concentration,” Bridget said, referring to the time he made Leera write one thousand parchment lines saying I will listen attentively while Mr. Harvus is speaking.

  Augum tried forcing himself to look forward to learning their first summoning spell with Harvus, but it was like looking forward to cleaning soiled laundry. Instead, he fantasized about getting Harvus fired somehow.

  “—and why can’t we hire someone else?” Leera said as if reading Augum’s mind.

  “Because Mrs. Stone approves of Mr. Harvus,” Bridget said in a tone suggesting she was tired of repeating herself. “And besides, Mr. Harvus can keep our secrets.”

  Leera folded her arms across her chest, a sour expression on her face.

  “Any news, Kwabe?” Mr. Goss asked, taking the Agonex away from a moaning Leland.

  “A new decree, I am afraid.”

  “Another one?” Bridget asked. “What is it this time?”

  Augum sat forward. The Legion had decreed a spate of new rules of late—no celebrating unsanctioned holidays; no gathering in groups of ten or more people without a permit from a Legion constable; no worshipping gods of any kind; no practicing arcanery without permission; and so on.

  “No weapons of any kind are allowed,” Mr. Okeke replied, “without written prior consent.”

  “I do believe we saw that one coming,” Mr. Goss said. “They are afraid of opposition.”

  “I have to disagree, Albert.” Mr. Okeke handed him the parchment. “I think they merely wish to control us. Read the last one, decree ninety-six.”

  Mr. Goss adjusted his spectacles. “ ‘Every hamlet, village and town in Solia will hereby host a Legion Constable who will collect taxes, keep the peace, and settle disputes’.”

  They all glanced at each other.

  Suddenly there was a distant horn blast. For a moment no one moved. When the horn sounded again, everyone scrambled—Augum shot to a window; Mr. Goss picked up a fire poker and raced to the door; Leera scuttled over to the rucksack and dug out the orb; Mr. Okeke ran to his room; Bridget protected Leland from the scuffle; and Jengo grabbed his head, proclaiming their imminent death.

  “I cannot see anything out of the ordinary,” Augum whispered, prowling from window to window. The forest was silent.

  Leera, who had been quietly trying to call Mrs. Stone through the Orb of Orion, raised her head. “Can’t get a response.”

  Mr. Okeke finished putting on a crimson and gold tunic and strode to the door. “Please,
everyone—do stay here, I shall return shortly.”

  “If we’re not here, we’ll probably be at the cabin, Mr. Okeke,” Augum said. “The enchantments are stronger there.”

  “Father—” Jengo called. “Be careful.”

  Mr. Okeke gave a nod and carefully opened the door. Seeing nothing outside, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Augum soon went for the door handle. “I have to see what’s going on.”

  “I do not think that wise, Augum,” Mr. Goss said, the fire poker trembling in his hand.

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Then we’re coming with you.” Bridget handed a moaning Leland over to his father, who hesitated, but put the fire poker down.

  Jengo slithered to his room, voice low in defeat. “Then you’ll get killed, all three of you.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Leera said, “and Aug’s right—we can’t just sit here like trapped rats.”

  Augum grabbed the rucksack after Leera stuffed the orb back inside. Bridget snagged the Agonex and put it in too. They were practiced at being prepared, always ready to bolt should things suddenly go awry.

  “Then be sure to stay safe, you three,” Mr. Goss said, face scrunching with worry. Leland moaned his agreement.

  Augum turned the handle. “We will, Mr. Goss.”

  The trio scampered through the door and into the woods behind the cabin. They ran amongst the soggy pines, circling the village. Only when they heard the sound of horses did they slow to a creep.

  “There,” Leera whispered, pulling aside a branch. Augum and Bridget crowded close. A few strides away stood a small procession—two black-armored soldiers on horseback and a covered wagon pulled by two oxen. The wagon was manned by a chunky boy their age and a squat man wearing ill-fitting black garments. He was so obese he almost lacked a neck.

  There was no mistaking the burning sword of the Legion emblem on the soldiers’ chests.

  Augum shared a look with the girls—the Legion had come to Milham. This could mean a fight and an immediate evacuation.

  Leera secretly found his hand and their fingers curled together.