by Sever Bronny
CLASH
The Arinthian Line: Book Four
By Sever Bronny
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any similarity to actual persons, living or deceased, establishments of any kind, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Bronny, Sever, 1979-, author
Clash / Sever Bronny.
(The Arinthian line ; bk. 4)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-0-9937676-6-1 (paperback).--ISBN 978-0-9937676-7-8 (ebook)
I. Title.
PS8603.R652C53 2016 C813'.6
C2016-901333-2 C2016-901334-0
Version 1.0
Copyright ©2016 Sever Bronny Ltd. All Rights reserved. Map and cover by author using creative commons and commercial licensing. “Clash” cover font by Steve Deffeyes, deffeyes.com. For information about permission to reproduce certain portions of this work, please contact the author at [email protected] or via www.severbronny.com
Middle of Nowhere
Augum Stone raised his sun-bronzed arm just in time. The powerful jet of water smashed into a hard black lightning shield that had not been there a moment before, pushing him back a step. The shield disappeared from his forearm as soon as the attack was over.
“Your first one was stronger,” he said.
Leera Jones raised a sharply arched brow and gave a competitive grin. “The one that knocked you on your butt?”
His eyes narrowed playfully as he paced around her on the rickety wooden platform, initialed by warlocks from ages past. “My turn again. Ready?”
“You have to stop warning me. How am I supposed to learn to sense an attack?”
“Don’t want to hurt you.”
She waved dismissively. “I can take it. Besides, Mrs. Stone can heal me.”
“Is that so?”
“Uh huh.”
“She’s a thousand leagues away.”
Leera smirked. “She’s just on the other side of that.” She thumbed at the Orb of Orion, resting neatly in their picnic basket amongst bananas, oranges, bread, salted beef, and a skin of water. Mrs. Stone was now tuned to the ancient artifact, allowing her to perform all manner of spells through it.
Augum expelled a long breath while pacing the platform barefoot, contemplating his next move. He kept catching satisfying glimpses of the wavering horizon. Here they were, the only objects amongst an entire blue ocean, practicing spellcraft on a secret Trainer once used by the Academy of Arcane Arts, now abandoned since the Legion took control of the famous institution. In a way, the orb made him feel closer than ever to the institution he would have liked to attend, for it had been gifted to the academy a thousand years ago upon its opening. Not to mention Mrs. Stone had been its headmistress for thirty-five years. How he wished things were different. How he wished they weren’t in so much danger.
He placed his hand between his eyes and the hot sun. It was so quiet and peaceful here, so far away from everything—the melting snow, his father, the war.
“Suppose we get stuck here?” he asked. “Then what?”
“Then you better learn how to fish—” Three watery rings instantly flared around her arm as she smacked her palms together. “Annihilo!”
The jet of water caught him unaware, slamming into his chest and easily shoving him off the platform. He heard her giggle as he plummeted to the ocean below, stomach in his throat, soon feeling the hard slap of water on his back.
The salty coolness was refreshing, and he took his time swimming to the ladder.
Her arms were crossed as he stepped back onto the platform. “Was that one strong enough?”
He said nothing, making a show of wringing the water out of his loose lace-up shirt.
“It was a weak shot at least,” she added.
True—Augum saw her jet of water smash through a plank board once.
Leera adjusted her pale blouse and wrinkled her nose mischievously. “You’re cute and kind of handsome when you’re wet.”
“Kind of?” Augum surrendered a crooked smile, noting how the sun glinted off the small smattering of freckles on her slightly tanned face, how her raven hair, falling loosely just past her chin, reflected the rays. Thanks to careful nurturing at the Okeke home, the harrowing ordeal in Bahbell had left no physical traces, except for perhaps the slightest hollow shadow in their cheeks.
They were slowly gaining on the prime of their youth. She was a little taller now, as was he. His voice had deepened slightly whereas hers had sweetened, but still maintained its raucous edge. Much to his embarrassment (and her amusement), his occasionally cracked, as if brittle. Both were filling out in places that would make them man and woman. He felt leaner, stronger, sharper. She was more expressive, moodier, and ever cuter.
But the trio had grown together in more ways than one since first meeting in Sparrow’s Perch, becoming tight friends … and much more in the case of himself and Leera. The last month of grueling training in the 4th degree, along with their other spells, had hardened them physically and mentally, giving them more confidence. In that time, Mrs. Stone tested them on the 3rd degree, which they passed, earning their third stripe.
Leera had this way of staring unwaveringly at him that made his stomach dance. He did not know if he wanted to push her off the platform or kiss her. He probably would have already kissed her, except the last thing they needed was Mrs. Stone finding out about them. Nana had enough to worry her, especially with his father now possessing five of the seven scions. She was teleporting around Sithesia trying to evade the Legion, while helping Tiberra with the war and training the trio.
“Let’s switch to Fear,” he said. He needed to stay focused, something he found difficult of late whenever their eyes met.
Her lips pressed in a pout. “Can’t we eat already? I’m starved.”
“Soon.” He raised his arm and pointed his palm at her, focusing on channeling the appropriate arcane energies. Three lightning rings unconsciously crackled to life around his arm while Mrs. Stone’s detailed instructions on how to correctly perform the spell echoed through his mind.
“You’re taking too long,” Leera said. “Could have knocked you off twice already.”
“I’m not as good with it as you are yet.”
She raised her arm and narrowed her eyes. “Dreadus terrablus.”
An anxious feeling swept over Augum like a wave. He felt the prickle of sweat on his forehead. Suddenly the platform seemed very high and he had to sit down. The feeling soon passed though, unlike the time Vion Rames had cast the spell on him—he would never forget that terrifying moment when he thought he had peed himself in front of the girls, not to mention the imagined horrors he had seen.
She bit her lip. “Still weak, isn’t it?”
“Made me dizzy at least.” He stood up and shook off the tension. “Nana did say there are three stages to these mind altercation spells—”
“—alteration,” Leera corrected.
“Whatever. Anyway, there are three stages—the learning stage, the proficiency stage, and the mastery stage.”
“I get it, we suck at first, like everything to do with arcanery. You sound like Bridget.”
His eyes flicked to the orb. “I’m trying to take this seriously. You should too.”
That mischievous look returned. She ran her fingers through her hair and started taking a step back at a time.
“Careful or you’re going to—”
“—to what?” Leera’s last step was purposefully off the platform and she disappeared. The
re was a splash a moment later.
Augum strode to the edge. “We should be training!”
“I needed to cool down!” she called from below, treading water. “Get in!”
He grimaced but took a few steps back. “Uh, just going for a quick dip, Nana,” he said to the pumpkin-sized Orb of Orion, then ran and jumped off, tucking his legs in before slamming into the water. When he surfaced, Leera swam up to him.
“Wish we could spend a whole day alone here,” she said, dark eyes fixed on him.
“You know I want to. We’ve got to train though.” He had never felt more comfortable with anyone, but she was his first girlfriend and he still felt like he was a fumbling fool, a toddler in the ways of women. They had snuck whatever alone time they could since getting back to Milham, yet it never seemed enough.
“You worry too much,” Leera said, and swam nearer, until they were smiling at each other nose-to-nose.
Suddenly there was a THWOMP sound above and the two of them hurriedly broke apart. They glanced up to see Mrs. Stone peek over the edge of the platform, an unimpressed look on her ancient face, staff firmly in hand.
Augum and Leera timidly swam back to the ladder and climbed, lining up before her.
“Uh, hi, Nana,” Augum said, dripping water. “We were just taking a quick swim.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Stone smoothed her opalescent robe. She was stooping, and her face looked more lined than ever. “How goes your work with Reflect?”
“All right I guess,” Augum lied, ashamed they hadn’t been practicing the rare 6th degree off-the-books spell she had taken great pains to teach them. The spell paired with a prismatic crystal specially carved by an expert arcaneologist, which each of the trio possessed. They had come across the raw crystals deep in the caverns under Bahbell. The problem was the spell was extremely difficult. As much detailed training as they had received, they had yet to successfully cast it even once. It was all about the angle with which one held the crystal, the thoughts of the caster, the timing of the trigger word, and blah, blah, blah. As far as Augum and Leera were concerned, it would only waste precious moments in battle, especially as the spell was sun-tuned, meaning it could only be successfully cast once a day.
“Dramask has fallen,” Mrs. Stone said. “King Bimal Pradeep has been put to death. Tiberra is now in Lividius’ hands.”
Augum had been expecting this piece of news. “What about Erika?” Erika Scarson, that vicious woman who had kept them imprisoned in Evergray tower, and who herself was imprisoned in Tiberra, was probably already free. He pictured her—stupid noisy earrings dangling—joining her nephew and Augum’s nemesis, Robin Scarson. Thinking about Mya’s murderer was enough to make him shift uncomfortably. He recalled punching Robin’s stupid, evil face. That was a good moment. The idiot deserved a worse fate though.
“I would think your main concern would be about the unfortunate citizens of Tiberra, who now must suffer Legion rule.”
Augum dropped his eyes. “Of course. Sorry, Nana.”
She stared at him for an uncomfortable moment. “You need not worry about Ms. Scarson suddenly showing up. As soon as she arrived in Milham, I ensured she would not have the orientation knowledge necessary to allow her to teleport back.”
Augum and Leera breathed a sigh of relief.
Mrs. Stone turned a tired gaze to the flat horizon. “I am afraid there is more. Lividius has found the sixth scion.”
Augum and Leera exchanged a dark look. This was something they had feared. Lividius “Sparkstone” Stone, the Lord of the Legion—and Augum’s father—would now devote all his energies to finding that last scion, the one embedded in Mrs. Stone’s staff, the Arinthian scion. Ever since that witch from Ley, Magua, helped him forge a special divining rod that could seek the scions out, his father had been finding them rapidly. And now it was only a matter of time until he found Mrs. Stone.
“He found them so quickly,” Leera whispered. “I thought we would have more time.”
“As did I,” Mrs. Stone said. “As did I …”
“What do we do now, Nana?”
Mrs. Stone turned back to them, raising her chin. The ancient lines in her face were deep and full of weariness. “I have failed to learn how the Agonex works.”
Great, more bad news. Augum envisioned the heavy bronze disk with its depictions of skulls and runes. Somehow it was supposed to control Occulus’ old army, an army equipped with Dreadnought weapons and armor, an army waiting 1500 years for the call to battle. Except Nana had not figured out a way to control it.
The disk had been one of two triumphs at Bahbell—the other being the destruction of the recipe that would have allowed his father to finish building an ancient arcane gate, a gate that would have simultaneously provided access to the Leyan plane while unleashing the monstrosities of Hell. To a former farm boy, it all still sounded ludicrous and far-fetched.
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?”
