Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (2 page)

Mrs. Stone left the staff to arcanely stand on its own and began pacing around the platform, hands behind her back, shoulders heavy as if carrying a great burden. Augum observed thirty-five years of being Headmistress of the Academy of Arcane Arts in his great-grandmother’s ambling gait. She was the only living master, and a kingdom’s entire hopes rested on those shoulders.

“It has been impossible for me to get into or near the ancient library in Antioc without being pursued by the Legion,” she began wearily, “yet I believe there is information about the Agonex there, information that may allow us to control Occulus’ army.”

“But Mrs. Stone,” Leera said, “don’t you think Sparkstone would have stripped the army of its weapons and armor by now? It’s been over a month.”

“I do not. He would consider it a triumph to control the same army the great Occulus created. Not to mention it would be impractical.” She circled them once before coming to a stop to face them. “I was rather hoping not to ask this of you, but under the circumstances, I have little choice.”

Uh oh. “Ask us what, Nana?”

“I would like you to find your way into the library and uncover what you can about the Agonex.”

Augum and Leera gaped.

“The annual Antioc Classic is to be held soon, giving you a perfect opportunity to blend in.”

“The warlock tournament?” Leera asked incredulously.

“You will disguise yourselves as
non-participating
knowledge-seeking necrophytes.”

Leera’s shoulders fell.

“I want only the three of you to go. But you are to be as proficient with the 4th degree as possible.”

“We’ll do it, Nana. Whatever it takes.” Augum wanted to say it sounded fun, but he knew that would not go over well. It was a serious matter. And what was a warlock tournament like? Maybe they’d get a chance to watch some of it …

“I am glad to hear of your resolve—” Mrs. Stone stopped to cough and wheeze. She summoned her staff to her and leaned on it.

Leera took a step forward. “Are you all right, Mrs. Stone?”

Mrs. Stone dabbed at her lips with a cloth. “Worry not of me.”

“Is it Cron, Nana?” Augum asked delicately, sharing a worried look with Leera. Annocronomus Tempusari, otherwise known as Cron, was a legendary and ancient spell that allowed the caster to travel back in time a very brief period—only moments, in fact. It was the most powerful battle spell the trio had heard of. Mrs. Stone had been trying to learn it in order to teach it to them. She believed it was the trio’s destiny to face the Lord of the Legion armed with the spell. The problem was she refused to speak of her progress. Every time she returned to them, she seemed to age a little bit more, a highly dangerous side effect of the spell. How much more aging could she take? Sure, the scion was obviously helping to keep her alive, but this couldn’t possibly go on much longer, especially considering she was being chased by the Legion.

“Mrs. Stone, is there anyone else who can learn the spell on your behalf and teach it to us?” Leera asked.

Mrs. Stone gave a derisive grunt, cloth pressed to her mouth. “Mercy, child, such a spell cannot be trusted to any other warlock in this grave time.” She kept her eyes closed as she spoke, but put the cloth away. “Do not fear Cron is beyond my strength, for conviction alone shall see me through. I have dreamed of mastering such a spell for a long, long time. And mastery … mastery always has a price. Yes, it may be the end of me, but we must all make sacrifices. Your time, I dare say, will come. When I am ready, you will learn the spell, for one of my challenges is making it palatable for you.” She wagged a finger. “But not before. Not before …”

She straightened a little. “In the meantime, you must keep training, and you must train harder than you have ever trained before.” Her brows furrowed hawk-like. “You
must
apply yourselves. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” Augum and Leera chorused, swallowing.

Mrs. Stone glanced at the flat and distant ocean horizon, whispering, “For time is most precious, most precious indeed …” Then she turned back to them, clearing her throat. “Mr. Harvus is expecting you back in Milham when you finish here.”

Augum and Leera groaned simultaneously. Both hated training with Harvus, who had the sense of humor of a bullfrog. He looked like one too—a pale, sickly bullfrog with a blonde hairpiece once probably belonging to some unfortunate minstrel. Mrs. Stone had hired the warlock before they departed for Bahbell to train Haylee and Jengo. The man constantly got on the trio’s nerves with his particular ways and constant nagging, but because Mrs. Stone ordered it, they had to do as he asked. And the more time Mrs. Stone spent away, the worse the man seemed to become. Maybe they could find a way to train on their own tonight …

“Can’t you come and train us again, Mrs. Stone?” Leera whined. “Mr. Harvus is just so … annoying.”

“And his breath stinks like rot,” Augum added. More like sewage.

“You are perfectly aware that it is dangerous for me to remain in one place for too long. And I will not place Milham in any more danger than necessary. Mr. Harvus is more than adequate for the job. I will not suffer another word on the matter. You shall obey him as you do me, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” Augum and Leera chorused blandly.

“And you will practice the Reflect spell until you have it mastered.”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone.”

Mrs. Stone shook her head, muttering, “Merciful spirits give me patience.”

Augum had the impression she would have lambasted them for not working hard enough with the spell—if she hadn’t been so tired.

“Bridget, Haylee and Jengo have already begun today’s lesson with Mr. Harvus. You are to have your lunch and join them. Inform me when you are ready to return.”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone.”

She frowned before teleporting away with a THWOMP.

Leera slumped down beside the basket and fished out a banana. “You’d think Harvus would be more worried about his city falling to the Legion.”

Augum scoffed as he sat beside her. The stumpy Tiberran hardly cared about trivial things like family, or being a good citizen. All he cared about was money and looking clean—the man utterly despised dirt.

“Still can’t believe he had us wash the outside of the cabin,” Augum said, recalling two tendays back when Harvus suddenly declared the entire facade of the Okeke home contaminated because a bird had pooped on it.

“And he didn’t even lift a finger to help,” Leera added. “Sat on his rump picking at those stupid white cotton gloves of his.” She squeezed her hands together, strangling thin air.

“Not true, he did point out all the spots you missed. Helped a lot.”

Leera smirked. “I swear that one day I’m going to steal that awful hairpiece of his and dump it into a washbasin of filthy water. And I
know
I’m not the only one who thinks it looks like a horse’s—”

“Then you better make sure you’re leagues away when he finds out.” There were two things Harvus could not stand—dirt, and anyone drawing attention to his hairpiece. But complaining about Harvus to Mrs. Stone did little, for she had apparently taken up the position that he was good for them somehow, though Augum thought it might be the eat-your-vegetables kind of good. In any case, Augum, Leera, Haylee and Jengo certainly made a sport of griping about the man.

Bridget was Harvus’ favorite, probably because she was the only one never to talk back to him, though she did crack up when Leera told her what she thought of his hairpiece. Nonetheless, Bridget had promptly declared that a truly awful thing to say and made Leera promise never to repeat it within earshot, a promise Leera crept around with winks or sly grins every time she noticed Harvus carefully adjusting his hairpiece. It never ceased to draw a smile from Augum, who occasionally had to suffer a silencing look from Bridget for encouraging Leera’s rebelliousness.

Leera shoved a banana at him. “Eat it. It’s not like you get to have one often.” She watched him dully peel back the skin. “You have that worried look on your face again.”

“What look?”

“This look.” She made an overly serious face.

“That bad, huh?”

“I know what you’re thinking, and Mrs. Stone’ll be fine. She’s always fine.”

“Not always.” He recalled the time Nana had pushed her arcane boundaries almost to the point of death, falling prey to arcane fever. Now she was obviously struggling with a spell that might be the death of her—one she expected them to learn, and they were only 3rd degree! They couldn’t even nail Reflect, a 6th degree spell. Cron was what … at least 10th, probably higher. For whatever reason, Nana refused to share even that little detail about the spell.

Leera sighed, finished her banana and tossed the peel into the water. “I know, all of Sithesia is about to burn, and here we are having a banana in the middle of the ocean. I get it, I do. But you know what?”

“What?” he said, catching a witty look in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, because that was a great birthday you had.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“You wearing it?”

“‘Course I’m wearing it.” He reached down his shirt and pulled out a thin chain on which hung several tiny medallions, each commissioned by a friend.

“Means a lot to me,” he said, examining each of the medallions while finishing his banana. The one from Mr. Goss and Leland depicted a warlock with a lit palm. Jengo and Mr. Okeke’s showed three stripes, in honor of Augum achieving his 3rd degree. Haylee and Chaska’s showed a flock of harpies and a mountain, commemorating their battle with the creatures in the Muranians. Mrs. Stone’s depicted a book, while Bridget and Leera’s had three interlocking hands symbolizing the strength of their friendship.

Leera eyed the banana. “Yeah, looks it too.”

“What, I can be hungry!”

She playfully stabbed his chest with each word. “It. Never
.
Comes. Off.”

“You know it won’t. I’ll be buried with it.”

Her head bobbed in a satisfied way. “I personally liked the cake the most.”

“You mean the towering monolith?”

“It was supposed to look like Evergray Tower!”

“More like one of the Spikes,” he muttered.

“Hey, I spent ages on it!” She punched his shoulder.

He raised a brow at her. “You know I was jesting.”

“I know. I wanted to punch you anyway. All right, fine, if it wasn’t the food, what did you like most—the games? The singing? Jengo accidentally lighting his robe on fire and screaming that he’d been attacked by a warlock?”

“You know what I liked most.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion I do.”

He glanced furtively at the orb, wishing they were alone so he could repeat that moment. He thought of it often, when they both happened to be outside the Okeke cabin and she suddenly yanked him behind a nearby tree, giving him a tender birthday kiss.

“But seriously, you’ve got to stop worrying so much. She’s the legendary Anna Atticus Stone. She’ll be fine.”

That instantly brought his worries crashing back. “Then why does she look so worried?” He stood up and began pacing, tucking the necklace away. “My father has six scions, Leera,
six
.” He whipped the banana peel into the ocean. “Now that Tiberra is his, guess what he’s going to devote all his time to?”

She squinted against the sun. “You’re going to say something obvious, aren’t you?”

“He’s going to hunt for Nana, and that’s
all
. He wants that seventh scion. He wants the family heirloom, and he’s not going to stop until he gets it.”

Leera made an impatient noise. “That’s why we’re training so hard.”

Augum felt his blood rising. “We’re only 3rd degree! What, you think we’re going to defeat my father, the Lord of the Legion—a 20th degree warlock—all by ourselves? Are you crazy? This
whole plan
is crazy. And learning some stupid Reflect spell isn’t going to make a spit of difference.”

Leera stood. “What’s gotten into you?”

The anguished look on her face made him flush with shame. What
had
gotten into him? He slumped on the edge of the platform and began putting on his turnshoes. “I guess I’m just worried—I’m worried for Nana, I’m worried we’ll get everyone around us killed, I’m worried about you and Bridget, and I’m—” He stopped short of voicing his greatest recent fear—Cron. The aging thing. How will it affect them?

She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “And you worry too much, especially recently. You only just turned fifteen, not even a man yet.”

“Not even a man yet.
Exactly
. Thanks for reminding me.” He shrugged her hand away, immediately regretting it.

“Aug, really, you can be so … ugh.” She roughly put on her turnshoes and snatched the basket, leaning into the orb. “Ready, Mrs. Stone.”

Augum paced over and rested his palm beside hers on the orb. He tried giving her an apologetic look but she would not meet his gaze. A moment later, he felt his body yank.

Mr. Harvus

Back at the Okeke home in Milham, Augum took a seat by the fire to dry his clothes and calm his stomach. Teleporting felt like being stretched on a torture rack—he always feared he would pop into existence torn limb from limb.

“How did it go?” Mr. Goss absently asked from the table, pushing round spectacles up his nose.

Leera shrugged. “Tedious,” and slumped on the floor beside Augum, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Has Mrs. Stone told you about Dramask?” Mr. Goss pressed.

“Yes, it’s awful, isn’t it?” While she and Mr. Goss bantered about the news, Augum glanced through the window. The snow had almost completely melted away. He could hear the trickle of water, the chirp of birds, and the distant singing of rowdy miners having a drink. The sun was only an hour or so from setting, telling him wherever the Trainer platform was had to be very far away indeed.

His mind kept going over what he had said. Why had he been rude to Leera? What had gotten into him? He’d noticed he’d been running short of patience lately, which was affecting his concentration, and therefore his training. Was it the pressure? Was it his relationship with Leera, his inexperience, his clumsiness? Or was it something else, something he did not understand yet?