Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (38 page)

After a grueling half day spent on the course, Leera plopped down on a battered stump. “Anyone else as exhausted and hungry as I am?”

Bridget dusted off her necrophyte robe before bending to rest her hands on her knees. “We should eat before attempting our 4th degree. Maybe we’ll hear word from—”

“—those fool stowaways?” Leera interjected. “They
better
succeed if they value their hides.”

Augum wiped the sweat from his brow, wincing at his headache. “Supper Hall for lunch?”

They nodded.

The Supper Hall

“
How much—?
” Leera asked in scandalized tones, holding a tray at the concession stand.

“I said, five coppers,” replied a bored attendant with a sweaty face. A giant cauldron of water boiled behind him.

“Better be fit for a queen.” Leera took the five coins from Bridget and dumped them on the scuffed oaken counter. “We’ll be broke by day’s end at this rate,” she muttered to Augum, making sure no one else in the line of mostly necrophytes and gray-robed figures had overheard.

Ahead, a large woman with angular spectacles and a tight bun doled out slopping ladles of some kind of mush. Augum suspected she woke up with that frown. He tightened his hood, aware that there were way too many people in the noisy hall for his comfort, especially since most of them were necrophytes. Not that he was comfortable anywhere in public nowadays, even Milham.

They collected their food—mushroom soup, mashed potatoes, lanky green beans, and a shriveled side of pork that looked like it had been run over by an ox cart. There was a crude iron pump that they used to pour water into battered tin cups. Then they made their way to a trestle table with fitted benches and lit by hanging iron candelabras. The room looked much like a vast barn, the floors covered with hay.

“It’s like we’re livestock,” Leera muttered, taking a seat.

“Quaint and cozy,” Augum replied, taking a seat opposite alongside Bridget, then promptly diving into his food.

“Farm boys,” Leera mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No way, she can’t beat him!” a small necrophyte boy with a pimpled face and a squeaky voice finished saying to a necrophyte girl. The pair sat down at the same table as the trio, who stiffened and kept their faces averted.

Augum realized they stood out like beacon fires—in the whole place, they were the only necrophytes with their hoods drawn. He wearily watched the pair beside them out of the corner of his eye.

The boy plowed into his food. “That Nodian warlock, what’s his name—”

“Nix, or Nex, or something like that,” the girl replied, picking at her beans.

“Whatever, he knows his 4th but purposely didn’t take his test so he could compete in a lower degree.
That’s
why Temper’s going to lose.”

“Good, cause I hate her anyway. She’s a stupid oaf. And she doesn’t deserve Robin either.”

The boy groaned. “I’m so
sick
of hearing about him. Almost as famous as the fugitives.” He had a narrow nose, short black hair, and was about their age, or maybe a year younger.

The girl, who was as thin as parchment with long sienna hair, seemed to notice the trio because she stopped eating, throwing a questioning look at the boy.

“Hey,” said the boy, putting down his spoon. “Hey, you three—why the hoods? You part of some warlock bandit gang or something?”

The girl chuckled.

“Oh, uh, we’re just cold,” Augum replied, fully realizing that was about the stupidest reply he could come up with—it was furnace hot in there from all the braziers.

“Were you in the training room?” the girl asked. “Let me guess—the ice bath.”

Augum nodded without facing them. “Yep, that’s it exactly.”

“Hate that bath,” the boy muttered. “So are you all going to see the opening ceremony?”

Augum nodded again, overly conscious of every movement of his body. “Probably, yeah.”

“ ‘Probably’?”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Of course you are, why would you miss it?”

Augum could think of a few reasons.

“Do you have a favorite?” the boy pressed.

Augum couldn’t help but look up. “Favorite?”

The boy gave the girl an
Is he slow or something?
look. “Yeah, you know, a favorite in the tournament,” he said to Augum.

“Uh …” Oh no, he didn’t know anyone other than Temper and that murdering mule! “Robin Scarson,” he blurted, hating himself for saying it.

The boy gave him a revolted look.

“He’s a dream, isn’t he?” the girl said to Bridget and Leera.

“Oh, yeah,” Leera said in flat tones. “A dream come true.”

The boy leaned closer. “Anyone ever tell you that you three look like the three on the poster?”

Augum and Bridget froze.

Leera, on the other hand, waved idly. “Get it all the time.”

The boy gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I can see why.” He returned to his soup.

“Ooo, I’d
love
to see Augum Stone in the tournament!” the girl squealed.

Augum, who had finished breathing an immense sigh of relief, choked on a bean pod. “Excuse me,” he managed to say wheezily while Bridget slapped his back.

“He’s
so
handsome,” the girl said with a dreamy sigh, quickly catching herself. “In a criminal kind of way of course. Anyway, I know
he’d
win.”

“Not if he faced Robin,” the boy said. “No chance.” He counted on his fingers. “Kid knows more necromancy than any necrophyte I know, he’s been trained by the Lord of the Legion personally, and his crooked aunt’s a judge—the Unnameables themselves couldn’t win with her in that booth.”

The girl shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Besides, isn’t Augum, like, only 1st degree or something?”

How Augum wished he could prove the boy otherwise!

The boy lowered his voice. “Know who I have a
huge
crush on? Bridget Burns.”

It was Bridget’s turn to nearly choke.

The girl smirked at him. “Oh, are you a Bridget boy?”

“What do you mean?” the boy asked.

“Well, you’re either a fan of Bridget or Leera.”

“Hmm, they’re both super cute, but I’m definitely a fan of Bridget.”

Augum couldn’t resist glancing at Bridget. She was scarlet, and suddenly quite preoccupied with her mashed potatoes.

“Which one would you take to the Star Feast?” the boy asked Augum.

Augum had a very hard time concealing his smile. “Oh, uh, Leera.”

Leera had to pretend to wipe her mouth to prevent herself from bursting out in laughter.

The girl smacked the boy’s hand. “Think Bridget’s cuter than me?”

The boy sighed. He put down his spoon with a clatter and crossed his arms. “Think Augum or Robin is more handsome than I am?”

“Ugh.” The girl returned to eating, as did the boy.

“So what outfit are you from?” he asked the trio without looking up.

“Blackhaven,” Augum replied quickly.

The boy gave Augum a look. “Yeah, but which
outfit
?”

“Oh, uh …” They should have prepared better, asked Haylee more questions about this kind of stuff. He regretted not having her along. Instead, they got stuck with idiot stowaways.

The girl leveled her spoon at Augum. “Let me guess—Stone Quarter.”

“How did you know?” Augum lied.

The girl gave a lofty head wag. “Cut of your robes.”

Augum glanced around—all the necrophyte robes looked the same to him.

“All right, let’s go get a good seat.” The boy took the girl’s empty plate and bowl, as well as his own. “See you later.”

“Bye,” Augum replied.

Soon as they were out of earshot, the trio broke out snickering.

“Now
that
was an odd conversation,” Augum said, taking note how the girls sat a little straighter, cheeks rosy.

They quietly bantered a little more before going to their room to check for a message from Malaika, but there was none. They washed up instead and made their way down to Examination Room A, where the trio paid the one hundred gold fee to Secretary Sanjipta, the scrawny gray-robed woman behind the desk. She accepted it without glancing up from her work.

“The rules are simple,” she began explaining in a memorized rapid-fire way. “No weapons, no food, no off-the-books spells, no necromancy or otherwise any spells outside of the tested degree. No hints, winks or high jinks of any kind. No passing of notes. Any form of cheating will result in a lifetime ban and an automatic constabulary report. The applicants are not to place their hands on each other or the examiner without permission. The applicants are not to address the examiner without being spoken to first.”

She took a bored breath before charging on while shuffling parchment. “The applicants will not remove any property from within Examination Room A. If an applicant should permanently damage any of the obstacles or objects within Examination Room A, he or she will immediately pay for said obstacle or object in addition to a pre-determined fine. Should an applicant fail to make immediate payment, he or she will be remanded into Legion custody until such time as payment can be provided by the family, a benefactor, or mentor.

“The Institution, henceforth known only as
the Library
, shall not be held liable for any cuts, bruises, broken bones, or bodily harm of any kind sustained by applicants. If an applicants loses their life in the process of the testing,
the Library
will notify the proper authorities but not be held liable in any way. By signing this form, applicants agree to all terms and conditions of the test and acknowledge the heretofore risks.” She fired off three parchment forms, handing over a well-used quill and ink bottle. “Sign here and here and here.”

The trio exchanged looks before signing their fake names on the dotted lines.

Secretary Sanjipta snatched the forms as soon as they were signed. “Applicants may now enter Examination Room A. The examiner will be with you shortly. A reminder that applicants are not to speak to each other at any time while inside the examination room, unless specified to do so by the examiner.”

The trio shuffled their way to the great double doors. They were carved from old, black oak, and studded with iron. The carving depicted a warlock with his arms raised in triumph, hands glowing. Below was another inscription.

“ ‘Chance favors thee if thee be prepared’,” Bridget read solemnly.

“Good luck, you two,” Augum said, giving them each a firm nod.

Leera squeezed his hand. “You too.” She raised her palm. “Shyneo. Leigh Sparrows.”

The door opened and the trio walked inside.

Making Headway

Late that afternoon, the doors of Examination Room A burst open and out spilled a laughing Augum, Bridget and Leera, hugging immediately.

“But did you see the look on his face when you blew the statue apart?” Leera finished saying to Augum, giving him a peck on the cheek before realizing Secretary Sanjipta was standing right there. The gray-robed woman glanced up to scowl at them for ruining the peace of the hallway. They quickly hurried off.

“We’re lucky he chose to arcanely repair it instead of charging us,” a rosy-cheeked Bridget said.

Leera cracked a grin. “Imagine being ‘remanded into Legion custody’ because we couldn’t afford to pay for a stupid statue.”

Bridget raised her brows at her. “You were listening to that spiel?”

“I have my moments.”

Augum flexed his arm to marvel at the four majestic lightning rings, which he swore crackled a little louder and shone a touch brighter. “I would have … forcefully repaired it or something.”

Leera gave him a light shove. “Yeah, I’m sure that would have gone over well.”

Bridget flared her four shining ivy rings. “Honestly, I did not think it was going to be that easy.”

“—or tedious,” Leera said, flaring her own watery rings. “Why make us perform each spell from each degree
three
times? It was so … official.”

“
Bureaucratic
is the word you’re looking for,” Bridget said.

“He was kind enough to allow us to take breaks at least,” Augum said as they entered the dim portal room.

“Pre-scheduled,” Bridget noted, frowning. “You sure he didn’t recognize us?”

Leera waved the thought aside. “He was older than everyone I ever met put together. Like, Fentwick old.”

“Oh, come on, he wasn’t
that
old.” Bridget placed her hand on the etched oval beside the words
General Quarters
. “Shyneo. Brie Sparrows.” The windy portal ripped to life and the trio walked through it, continuing the conversation on the other side.

“I’m just glad the fake names worked for the ceremony,” Bridget said. Then, as they paced the silent hallway, Bridget threw one arm around Augum’s shoulder and the other around Leera’s, squeezing them close. “I’m proud of us. Not
one
mistake. All our hard work paid off. Can you believe it? We’re 4th degree!”

Augum and Leera exchanged awkward smiles—it was unlike Bridget to show so much affection, but very pleasant indeed.

“All thanks to your mentorship,” Leera said. “And I love what you did with your SME.” They had taken to abbreviating the
Summon Minor Elemental
spell to avoid the mouthful of its name.

“Which part?” Augum asked. “When she made it leap in the air and kick the dummy or when it tried to strangle it?”

“Mine just barreled into the dummy like a little drunken oaf. I mean, that was impressive, Bridge.”

She shrugged, still holding onto their shoulders. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Looks like everyone’s at the opening ceremony,” Augum said. They hadn’t encountered a soul since the examination room.

“Wish we were going,” Leera chimed in.

They stepped into their room but found no note from Malaika and Charissa. What they did find were two additional beds with two privacy screens in between.

“Not exactly looking forward to sleeping in the same room as them,” Leera muttered. “Don’t be surprised if you hear two people choking at night.”

Bridget gave her a look.

“Are my jokes getting dark?”

“Little bit,” Bridget replied.

“Well, tough. These are dark times.”

Bridget sighed and strode to the window. “Sunset soon …”