Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (35 page)

Secretary Klines gave a short bow. “Your Brilliance. Excuse me but, about Mr. Stone, Miss Jones, and Miss Burns—”

The chair froze. “Do I enjoy repeating myself, Beetlebreath?”

“Of course not. My apologies, Your Brilliance.”

The chair began floating upwards. “And remember—discretion, Secretary Klines. Discretion …”

“Your Brilliance.” Secretary Klines made a sharp gesture at the doors and they silently swung open. She gave them a pointed look and the lot of them filed out.

Tournament

“What’s going on, who is she?” Malaika pleaded as the group made its way down the hall.

“A most frightening countenance,” Charissa whispered, clutching Malaika’s necrophyte robe.

Secretary Klines gave them a warning look. “Shh!” and gestured for them to raise their hoods. They did so just as they passed more gray-robed figures, all of whom glanced their way curiously. Augum had the impression this area was usually off-limits to necrophytes.

Secretary Klines arrived at a handle-less oaken door carved with a single oval. She waved idly and it opened inward, revealing a spacious black stone room with a high ceiling. It seemed to be completely barren, other than simple torch sconces that burned low, throwing countless fiery reflections along the polished mirror-like walls.

She led them to one of the walls. Augum saw a thinly-etched oval there beside which were the words
General Quarters
. He noticed other ovals too, all spread evenly around the room. There had to be dozens.

“Shyneo,” Secretary Klines said. Her hand coiled with gray, smoky light. She pressed her hand against the oval and said, “Secretary Klines.” A much larger oval immediately ruptured to life beside her, able to fit a very tall person. A light wind sprang from it, blowing at their hair and robes.

“
Don’t
get sick.” Secretary Klines then gestured impatiently and they filed through, spilling out onto a red carpet in a castle hallway lined with countless doors.

“Follow me.” Secretary Klines’ clacking disappeared into the high pile of the lush carpet. This hallway curved much like the other and was just as quiet, but was smaller, cozier. The sconces were hooded, casting a warm and dim glow. There were no windows. Each room had a number—1057, 1058 … Secretary Klines led them to room 1099, pressed her hand where there should have been a doorknob, and whispered, “Secretary Klines.” The door soundlessly swung inwards, revealing a spacious room with a leaded-glass window at the far end. She herded them inside and gestured at the door, which closed silently.

The room was sparse with simple mahogany furnishings—a study table, three beds with three small foot boxes, and two folding wooden privacy screens between the beds. The large central carpet, on the other hand, was a rich and colorful tapestry depicting knights, gargoyles, demons, peasants, and even a dragon. They surrounded a towering castle as if defending it from an outside force. The edges of the carpet were filled with exquisitely ornate books and runes. There was one other door in the room, which led to an equally simple bathing room and privy.

Klines stood behind them, arms crossed. “You will note there are no sconces here. That is because you are warlocks and expected to light your own way.”

Charissa hurried to the window. “Oh my,” she said, hand over her mouth.

The five of them crowded near the deep window ledge and could not help but gasp at the view. They were so high up not a sound from below reached them. A sprawling, walled city lay before them, with its own divided districts, or perhaps quarters, Augum did not know. For a moment, he forgot why he was here and marveled at the sight, unable to contain his excitement at possibly being able to explore some of it later. He had never been to a city before. Sure, he was born in the Black Castle in Blackhaven, but he had been an infant!

Looking down, Augum saw that the face of the structure they were in loosely matched the castle-like carving of Senior Arcaneologist Ning’s grand chair, as well as the carpet in this room. Was it a castle, library, or both? Far below was a high crenellated wall studded with torches and spiral minarets and staffed with patrolling guards. Beyond was a wide moat with brackish water. There was also a grand brazier-lit drawbridge with two giant winged statues guarding the entrance.

Leera stabbed the window. “That must be where the tournament’s being held!”

Augum’s heart leapt at seeing the streamers and banners surrounding a large wooden arena filled with stands. Flags of all sorts ruffled in the wind, the burning sword of the Legion most prominent of all. There were swarms of people everywhere. Suddenly he longed to be there, testing his mettle against the best in his degree. He imagined himself making it to the finals, facing Robin … and beating him. Only one problem—Robin was 4th degree.

“Wait, the opening ceremonies are today!” Malaika squealed. “We have to go see them!”

Leera whipped around. “Are you
mad
? You’re not even supposed to be here! You’re going back right away—”

Malaika raised her chin. “We’re not going anywhere. We came to have fun and see the show and help you. If you don’t like it …” She shrugged. “Too bad. Guess we’ll just have to have fun without you. Besides, I left a letter with Father explaining we’ve come along to help.”

Leera ballooned. “After everything you put us through, you come up with
this
? Do you know what I want to do to you right now—” but she was interrupted by Secretary Klines.

“Quite the view, is it not?” Klines paced to the window, arms still folded across her tiny chest. “It was one of the largest castles in all of Sithesia, before it was converted into a library. As is tradition, the drawbridge rises two hours before midnight.”

“It’s beautiful and majestic,” Bridget said, voice full of childlike wonder.

“One of the finest in Sithesia, perhaps only second to the one in Canterra. Its halls are steeped in history. I feel privileged to be here, as I am sure you do as well.” She sighed. “I admit I am surprised that you, the most hunted trio in Solia, are why she had me prepare this room. Brazen of you to come here.”

“How did she know we were coming?” Augum asked.

“And how did she know I like sweets?” Leera chimed in, still giving Malaika a hard look.

“And who
is
that … woman?” Charissa asked.

Secretary Klines stared out the window. “Imagine a young gifted warlock with a strong memory, but even stronger curiosity. Imagine that warlock using all her talents for study in the pursuit of knowledge. Now imagine that warlock aging, but learning to stave off death a little at a time using that knowledge.”

“You’re saying Senior Arcaneologist Lien Ning is … really old, is that right?” Augum asked. What a mouthful that title was.

“That she is. A wise, old soul, if not a bit cantankerous.” Klines leveled her thickly-spectacled gaze at Augum. “So you’re
him
.”

“I’m the Lord of the Legion’s son, yes.”

“Not quite what I meant.”

“I don’t understand.”

Klines rested a finger on her chin as she studied him. “Forgive me, but there’s no way you have it in you.”

“Have what in me?”

“Take her place. Beat him. No way. Look at you.”

“Take whose place? Beat who? My father?”

“Your father. We are studied people here. Remember that. ‘When thy fallen can’t be slain, when lion children rise again, when fires burn from east to west, blood of kin can vanquish death’.”

“Oh, come on,” Leera said, flipping her palms incredulously, “don’t spew those stupid riddles at us, we’ve been through too much!”

“What I mean is two have come to pass.”

“You know the poem,” Augum said. “But, how?”

“They say it is from the time of Attyla the Mighty, but it is older. It actually originates from the Seers. Do you know who they are?”

“They can see the future and stuff,” Leera said.

“A people from the north, from Ohm,” Bridget added. “You’re allowed to ask them one question per lifetime.”

“A long, long time ago, well before the Founding, someone asked the Seers a question, and the answer was that poem. The person who asked the question is long lost to history, but the premonition has proved true time and again. The last time it proved true was when Occulus the Necromancer ascended to power.”

“He became Lord of Death and the Lord of Dreadnoughts,” Bridget whispered with a nod.

“Indeed. But as you probably have come to understand, when knowledge is suppressed, when the Leyans are—”

Malaika scoffed. “Leyans. No such thing.”

Klines gave her a pointed look. “When the Leyans are not believed in or when they shut themselves from the world, chaos ensues.” She glanced back at the trio. “If knowledge fails to be shared then it dies. What usually results is regression. Civilization takes a step back until fire consumes all. Those that survive live to tell what they can remember.”

Klines allowed that thought to settle before making an idle gesture at the room. “All of this is possible because of the Leyans. Your rings are possible. All of the knowledge and gains we have made as a civilization—all possible because of the teachings and sharing of knowledge by the Leyans.” Klines placed her hands on the window ledge and leaned forward, examining the city. “Yet how many times do you think these libraries have been burned down through history? How many times do you think we have had to start again? How many cycles of war, destruction, death? We are regressing right now.”

“Why does it all happen?” Bridget asked after a thoughtful pause.

Klines shrugged, withdrawing from the ledge. “People are stupid. They believe in stupid things. They believe in things without proof. They believe in promises no one can possibly give them.” She glanced at Augum. “Your father, for example, promises eternal life to those most loyal to him. He will never deliver that promise, for it is—”

“—impossible,” Augum finished in a whisper.

“Except if he raises them as the undead,” Bridget added, locking eyes with him.

Augum suddenly turned to Secretary Klines. “You’re part of the Resistance!”

She smiled as she glanced between Augum and Bridget. “Perhaps we stand a chance after all.”

Decisions

Secretary Klines raised a finger. “But remember that the Resistance does not exist without a core, and right now, that core is Anna Atticus Stone.”

Augum couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “Have you been in contact with her? Is that how you know all this stuff about us? Is she all right?”

“We have. Though we have not heard from her in some time. She has been organizing the Resistance for a while now.” Klines leaned forward. “A secret network of key people waiting for the right moment to band together and stand against the mightiest foe the kingdoms have seen since the time of Occulus.” She turned her back on them, dropping her head. “But I have to confess, we have little hope. Morale amongst this small handful of individuals is low. The Legion is awfully good at rooting us out. We hardly communicate, and when we do, it is in code or whispers.” She examined her tiny hand, opening and closing it, whispering, “Not that there are many of us. Such a precious,
precious
few …” She closed her fist and glanced up at Augum. “Above all, we cannot see how Lord Sparkstone can be prevented from attaining the final scion.”

“But he’ll be destroyed if he acquires all seven—”

Klines shook her head. “Magua. Mark my words, Magua will find a way, if she has not already. He will be able to possess it. It is a Leyan construct, after all, subject to Leyan rules. He will possess it with her assistance. It is only a matter of time, or so I believe.” She took a measured step in his direction. “And you, Augum Stone, are not strong enough to face him. Not even close. Not even with Anna Atticus Stone’s help.”

“Not yet,” he said, feeling the steel in his voice. “But I will be.” He did not know how, but he would find a way.

“In the old days, it was said than an apprentice warlock was told they have no talent, no capacity, no desire to learn the craft. They would be scolded as being worthless and stupid. Sometimes even beaten. Only if they persevered would they be rewarded with the higher teachings.” She studied him carefully. “If you prove to possess such stubbornness, such resolve, then those few of us who are able, will help in whatever way we can, for only sheer persistence can stand a chance.”

For a moment, Augum just stared at this tiny being with giant beetle eyes. “And we would be grateful for such help,” he said at last.

“Please, we need access to the library,” Bridget said. “It’s very important. We have a lot of research to do.”

Klines turned to face Bridget. “Senior Arcaneologist Lien Ning said ‘No special privileges’. Which is not all too surprising, considering that is the tradition of the library—one must earn one’s knowledge here. History demands greatness from those seeking glory.”

“We do not seek glory.”

“Is that so? If true, then we are all the better for it. But it changes nothing—you will still have to earn your way here. The library was founded on the principle of merit. No help. No special privileges. No favoritism. Omnio incipus equa liberatus corsisi mei. All begin equal but only the curious thrive. Repeat it with me.”

“All begin equal but only the curious thrive,” the group solemnly chorused, Malaika and Charissa mumbling the ancient phrase.

“Memorize it, for it will be your guide here.”

“So does the no special privileges thing mean we can’t visit certain places, or what?” Leera asked.

“Come.” Klines led them to an etching of a gargoyle on the wall by the door. “This is the ancient library crest. It also doubles as a control rune. Shyneo.” Her hand burst with bright gray smoke. She placed it against the symbol and the gargoyle lit up with a crimson glow. “Secretary Klines. Register Initiate—” She turned to look at Augum.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be going under the name of Augustus Westwood here.”

“Register Initiate Augustus Westwood.” She took her hand away from the rune, which stayed lit. “Augum, if you please.”

“Shyneo.” Augum’s hand rippled to life with lightning. He placed his palm against the rune. He felt a light shock and the rune darkened.