Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (53 page)

Bridget pretended to scratch her nose as she spoke. “Those communication rings they’re going to give out just made necrophytes infinitely more dangerous.”

“Sure, they’ll be dangerous,” Augum said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve to hide what he was saying as there were way too many necrophytes milling about still, “but they’ll also have a weakness—their commanding officers. Take them out, or steal the orbs, and they’ll be like chickens running around with their heads cut off. You can even misdirect them or something.”

“Except these chickens can still raise the dead,” Leera added. “And that’s not a bad idea—maybe we can steal an orb or two and a set of matching rings.”

Bridget pretended to cough. “Agreed. Let’s send a message right now to meet Klines, see if she can somehow get us a set.”

They exited the Training Room and ported to the entrance hall, where Bridget left a message with an attendant at the front desk.

“What did you say to Klines?” Augum asked as he led them back after.

“Too dangerous to say anything specific,” Bridge replied. “Just told her to find us as soon as she could, and that we’d be in the Training Room until the eighth bell. Then we’ll be in the Supper Hall—”

“—meeting Malaika and Charissa,” Leera said. “Always a treat.”

They soon returned to the stand presided over by the bald attendant, who was waving at a small warlock boy after fitting him with a bulky set of training pads that made him look like a giant bale of hay.

“Hello again. Can you tell us how to get up there?”

The man followed Augum’s gaze skyward. “Up there? You’ll just have to figure that out, won’t you?” His crow’s feet crinkled as he smiled warmly.

“Right, the no hints thing.”

The man only nodded. Something about his smile gave Augum the impression he was happy to see the Legion commander gone from his training grounds.

“Toll to pass.”

“Excuse me?” Augum said.

The man kept his kind smile. “Earlier you came to a Legion meeting, but now you come to train. Toll to pass, I am afraid.”

“Right.” Bridget dug around and withdrew three silver coins.

“Good luck,” the attendant said, accepting them.

The trio sauntered off, keeping a look out for other necrophytes, trying not to get too close. Everyone was diligently training, seemingly inspired by the commander’s speeches.

“Imagine losing your element to necromancy,” Leera said, watching a necrophyte practice making himself look undead in the wheat field. She shuddered. “So unnatural. I wonder how many of them would rather keep training in their chosen element.”

“Hopefully a great many,” Augum said, trying to imagine a way to build a secret resistance across the entire kingdom using those special Dreadnought rings.

They casually poked around the various obstacles and scenes, looking for a way to get up to the sky bridges, but then another obstacle course became free—the miniature mountains in a corner of the great cavern. The trio made their way over and climbed them, taking note of the various charred and beaten boulders; the tiny stream—

“What are you looking at, Bridge?” Leera asked as she started her spell casting warm up routine. “Bridge—?”

“Hmm?” Bridget was frowning at the stream. She tapped her chin. “Where do you suppose that goes?”

Leera shrugged. “Who knows, probably the sewer—” She froze. “Oh.”

Augum saw where the stream ended—in a hole in the wall. “We can’t fit through there.” It reminded him of the cave below Bahbell, and how unnervingly tight some of its squeezes were.

“Maybe not through there, but …” Bridget scanned the cavern. “What about that?” She nodded at a waterfall that started up high at the sky bridges and ended with a constant roar into a small pool.

“Where does the water go though?” Augum asked.

Leera flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s what we’re saying. Let’s find out.”

They went over to investigate.

Augum placed his hand in the crystal-clear pool. The water was surprisingly warm. He could see the rocky bottom, but no exit point for the water. “Maybe it’s arcane. Maybe somehow it cycles the water back up top using a spell of some kind—”

“I’m not so sure.” Bridget approached the waterfall from the side, placing a hand on the slick rock wall to stabilize herself. The roar was immense, and the wind that got whipped up from the falling water sent her hair and necrophyte robe fluttering. She poked her head into the waterfall, getting soaked in the process, before jumping out and jogging over.

“Just like I thought,” she said, wringing out her hair. “There’s a river behind the waterfall. It flows away into darkness.”

“The water’s warm enough that we could swim it,” Augum said.

Leera tested the water and nodded. “That would bypass Watts and her stupid guards. I say we risk it. But we come back after supper just before the place closes.”

“What do we do about the attendant though?” Bridget asked. “He’ll know we haven’t exited. Might send guards searching.”

“Leave that to me,” Augum said. He’d already been thinking about that part, and had some ideas.

They returned to the mountain scene and began training, this time surreptitiously focusing on the Reflect spell. Bridget was adamant they work on it, convinced it could save their lives at a crucial moment.

“I don’t get the big deal!” Leera yelled after again failing to reflect Augum’s Deafness casting.

Bridget waved at her. “Shh! You’re yelling—”

“What—!”

Bridget made the gesture for her to tone it down, indicating at her ears.

“Oh, right. Sorry. But I don’t get why this is such an important spell. We can only successfully cast it once a day anyway.”

Bridget pointed at her mouth, over-annunciating the words. “Just keep trying.”

Leera swatted at the air. “Bah.”

They continued training—at long last, after the place had mostly cleared of people, and as they were expecting the cry that the eighth bell had rung, Augum finally managed to reflect Bridget’s purposefully weakened First Offensive back at her. She was so stunned by the maneuver she only gaped as her own vine smacked her in the stomach, doubling her over. He pumped his fist, which clutched the crystal he had used in the process.

Bridget, who had already cast the spell successfully near the start of their session, picked herself off the ground, smiling proudly. “Well done. Remember exactly what you did there and how it felt. Now it’s Leera’s turn to succeed next.”

“Maybe if it wasn’t near impossible,” Leera muttered.

They kept training, focusing on Leera, until the cry of the eighth bell. Then they hurried to the Supper Hall. As they turned a corner, a short and shadowy figure called out from behind a gargoyle statue.

“Who’s there?” Augum asked.

The stunted figure stepped forward.

“Oh, hello, Secretary Klines.”

The beetle-like woman looked around before hissing, “You ought not to send for me anymore, it’s too risky.”

“Yes, sorry, but we need your help with something non-library related,” and Augum and Bridget took turns quickly explaining all about the new speaking orb sets they were giving out to necrophytes and their commanders.

Klines’ giant eyes narrowed. “You want me to steal a set for you?”

“Yes, exactly—”

“You are out of your minds,” and she began striding away.

Augum took one step after her. “Secretary Klines—please, it’s really important. For the Resistance …”

Klines stopped, took a breath. “I promise nothing,” and strode off.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Leera said.

Bridget frowned. “Come on, let’s eat.”

A Winding River

The trio met Malaika and Charissa in the Supper Hall, receiving the latest news about the tournament.

“Tomorrow you’re going to face last year’s 3rd degree champion,” Malaika said as they hurried to finish their meals.

“Some sixteen-year-old Tiberran girl,” Charissa added, mashing her last potato in her bowl. “Her name is …” She gave a vague glance at Malaika. “Um, I forget.”

“Caireen Lavo.”

“Oh, right. Anyway, apparently her town was razed by the Legion.”

Then we have something in common, Augum thought.

Malaika was nodding along. “They mocked her victories, but there’s revenge in those wild eyes of hers.”

“What did she fight like?” Leera asked, shoving aside her lumpy soup and muttering, “Broccoli. Gross.”

“We actually didn’t see her fight.”

“We went shopping!” Charissa added proudly while Malaika tried shushing her with a meaningful look. “I got myself a nice new pretty dress—”

Leera gaped. “You went shopping.”

“Uh,
yeah
,
that’s what I just said—”

Leera rubbed her forehead with both hands and sighed heavily. “They went shopping.”

“Yeah,
so
?”

“Ugh, what’s the point?”

Bridget leaned forward. “Malaika, Charissa, I know you two can do better. Please, help us.”

Malaika’s eyes flicked to Augum before dropping. “Sorry. We’ll … we’ll try.”

Bridget nodded. “All right then. I’m sure you’ll work harder next time. Anything about the Legion?”

“Nothing you don’t know,” Malaika replied. “Except more rumors of war soon. Though we overheard two commanders talking about some kind of strange disturbance in Bahbell they’re ‘officially not supposed to acknowledge’, whatever that meant. Had to do with soldiers moving about on their own.”

Augum exchanged a look with Bridget and Leera. Had his father found a way to use Occulus’ ancient army without the Agonex?

“Oh, and I received word from Father,” Malaika went on in a singsong voice.

“You
wrote
to him?” Leera hissed.

Malaika’s face was indignant. “Of course I did! And I already told you I left him a proper note before stealing away with the lot of you—”

“You wrote to him from here though.”

“Obviously—”

“And he wrote you back.
Here.
”

“Uh,
yes
. Where else would he send the letter?” Malaika gave Charissa a look saying
Is she slow or what?
before returning her attention to the trio. “He knows we’re here to help you in your quest—and I have to admit, we’re doing a wonderful job, aren’t we?”

Leera’s mouth hung open.

“Anyway, you’ll be glad to know we shall have horses at the ready at the stables on the south side of town, anytime we need them.” Malaika gave a satisfied nod. “Father will arrange everything.”

Leera’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, daddy will arrange everything. Well that’s wonderful. I guess everyone can soon go home all happy and safe.”

“I do not appreciate your tone.”

“She doesn’t appreciate my tone,” Leera said to Augum, before dropping her voice even lower as she leaned toward Malaika. “Did you, on the off chance, ever stop to think what would happen if your correspondence was intercepted?”

“What does intercepted mean?” Charissa whispered.

“I took the proper precautions, thank you very much,” Malaika replied, ignoring her friend. “No mention of names or anything like that.”

“Indeed now? Nothing suspicious at all about horses waiting in a stable—”

“Don’t be paranoid,” Charissa said. “We sent the letter by courier and paid extra.” She gave a firm nod. “Lots of extra.”

Leera opened her palms to Augum. “They paid extra. Problem solved.” She dusted her hands. “Nothing to worry about here because they paid extra. Ugh, only spoiled, bratty rich girls think—”

“Lee, enough,” Bridget cut in with a deep sigh. “We have to trust they did it without tipping our hand. We’re out of time, we have to go.”

Leera smacked her bowl further away, sloshing goop onto the table, but said nothing more. The trio departed, leaving Malaika and Charissa to finish their meal with frowning faces. They retrieved the gargoyle coins and made their way to the Training Room just as the crier let everyone know the ninth evening bell had struck and the library was closing.

The middle-aged attendant gave them a kind smile. “Training Room’s closed, sorry.”

“Yeah, we know,” Augum replied, giving the girls a reminding look to trust him, then made sure nobody was near. “Sir, we were hoping that, uh, well …” He cleared his throat lightly and dropped his voice to a whisper. “This library has a long and rich tradition of making warlocks earn their way into the, uh, labyrinth.”

The man’s brows rose up his forehead.

“And we can’t get there because the Legion blocked all the entrance points. We want to explore the old traditions before it’s too late.”

“We’re aware of the risks, sir,” Leera added. “Please, let us stay. We can find our way down there and back without getting caught—”

“We’ve already done it once,” Bridget piped in.

“You have?”

The trio gave fervent nods.

“We were in the round room with all those doors,” Augum said, “and already passed a bunch of challenges.”

“I see.” The man glanced back at his stall of armor pads. “It would be against protocol—”

“We know that, sir,” Augum whispered. “But we think it’s important some of us learn about the old ways. We know the library was built on curiosity and mischief and stuff. Shouldn’t all be necromancy now, should it?”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone you let us stay,” Leera said.

“And we promise to be
very
careful,” Bridget added.

The man studied them a moment more before the crow’s feet returned around his eyes along with his smile. “You remind me of myself. You better hurry then. They’re going to bring in the walkers soon.”

“Thank you
so
much, sir,” Augum said, shaking his hand.

The man stopped Augum at the last moment. “But you’ll still have to pay the evening toll, I’m afraid. It’s tradition—toll to pass. Otherwise you’ll incur very bad luck.”

“Of course. How much is it?”

“Same as the day—spine a head.”

Bridget handed over three silver coins.

“Good luck and be careful.”

They scurried to the pool, jumped in, and swam toward the waterfall. Augum stole a glimpse of the distant entrance to the Training Room, just in time to witness walkers being ported in, escorted by Legion warlocks. He wondered how they were going to get past them on the way back and exactly how many they would face.