Bastial Steel

by Narro, B. T.

  Cleve waited to see what happened before replying, his aim looking to be perfect, at least in that moment. But the beast submerged again just before the arrow struck.

  “Bastial hell,” the same man muttered when he saw that Cleve’s arrow would’ve hit if he’d just released it sooner.

  Each of them readied their arrows then, Jessend included. Cleve didn’t see how she had the strength to shoot such a long distance. But when the creature came up again, at around a hundred yards, her arrow was the only one besides Cleve’s to strike the beast. Its roar was like distant thunder, yet sharper, angrier.

  The ship turned, Captain Mmzaza yelling from its front, “It won’t come up again, so we’d better change direction! When it can’t find us, that’s when it’ll show its ugly head.”

  “How will we know where to look for it, then?” Cleve shouted back.

  “We’re turning back to the west, boy. The ship-eater’s coming from the north. So it’ll pop up somewhere to your southeast. Spread along to the other side of the boat and the rear.”

  While Cleve didn’t trust any other advice Captain Mmzaza had tried to give during their voyage, most of it being about women, at that moment, Cleve knew not to doubt him. Jessend ran with Cleve to the other side of the deck, the other three archers taking the rear.

  Soon the crisp sound of breaking water turned Cleve’s head to the back of the boat, the three archers each desperately loosing arrows. As Cleve hustled over, a tree-sized tentacle swept over the ship.

  Brushing over the archers, it caused them to tumble backward as it coiled in on itself and grabbed one of them.

  Cleve and Jessend each shot at the speeding tentacle, both arrows sticking into it as a toothpick would into a man’s arm. Though, it was still enough for the beast to lose its grip on one of the archers before taking him into the sea.

  Cleve noticed a shadow above him. Turning to his side, he found another tentacle coming over the railing. Screams from Jessend’s retinue burst out, yet the Princess did not join the chorus. Like Cleve, fear had not yet made her lose control of her body. She was steady as she aimed at the beast’s arm coming toward them.

  They put two more arrows into it, and the tentacle snapped back into the water.

  There was a shriek too deafening to be from a Human’s throat. With no more tentacles coming over the railings, Cleve took the chance to run to the stern in hopes of shooting the beast in the head. But Rek was already there with his palm out. The Elf was screaming as well. It was the loudest Cleve had heard him utter, but it was nothing compared to the bellowing beast below. Cleve knew the psychic must be putting all his energy behind his spell of pain.

  The ship-eater couldn’t seem to handle it, no longer chasing the vessel and sinking back into the dark waters. Its screams were muffled but still shrill, quickly fading as the distance grew between it and the speeding ship.

  Nearly a full minute they waited in silence, each watching for a sign of it resurfacing.

  Eventually, Cleve came to realize it did not wish to follow—the Elf’s painful psychic spell was too much to bear.

  “You are dangerous.” Jessend took two steps back from Rek, tilting her head away as if he were a living flame. “My father might still like you…” She glanced behind the boat, where the ship-eater had sunk back into the sea. “Or he might fear you worse than a desmarl.”

  Chapter 2

  When they arrived at the docks in Goldram, Cleve followed Jessend through the winding wooden walkways suspended over the water, watching as man after man stopped what he was doing to bow before the Princess. They gawked openly at Cleve. He could feel their curiosity pressing against him, heavier even than the salty humidity.

  Cleve’s feet went no farther when he saw what he believed to be a carriage.

  “Are those horses?” he asked.

  With an excited grin, Jessend gasped. “That’s right, no horses in Ovira. But how did you recognize them, then?”

  “We do have books and paintings,” he replied snidely.

  He thought to apologize immediately after, but then he noticed a grin among her pouty lips.

  “And here I thought you were a simple warrior who knew more ways to kill a man than he did names of books.”

  The carriage to escort them to the palace was draped with a cloth embroidered with what Jessend explained to be the Takary family sigil—two blue soaring wings.

  “It’s a long ride to the palace,” she said as they got inside and their driver somehow made the horses start galloping. “The palace is in the middle of a city called The Nest.”

  The name came off as strange to Cleve, but he didn’t see a reason to mention it.

  “Living in The Nest is supposed to represent how our citizens are treated like family.” There was some embarrassment in Jessend’s tone. “I didn’t think of the name,” she said flatly.

  During the next bumps and turns of the road, Jessend slid her fingers along the knuckles of Cleve’s resting hand. He felt nothing from her touch and was glad for that. His mind was set on Reela. He wanted his heart to remain that way as well.

  Jessend was beautiful, so much so he’d been worried he would find himself attracted to her. But then he would think of Reela’s shimmering green eyes over her sly grin, and his heart would twist, his stomach would rise, and he’d realize it was silly to worry anyone could replace her.

  The Princess was a child compared to Reela, short and thin, and with small hands. Her touch did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Soon, she stopped playing with his knuckles, letting her hand lie still underneath his like a dead fish.

  That didn’t last long, either. She cleared her throat and pulled her hand back to her lap.

  Cleve kept his mind busy looking out the window of the carriage, desperately trying to remember the scenery and the route. He would need to return to the docks to sail back to his home continent, Ovira.

  “You don’t need to gag Rek when we arrive,” Cleve suddenly thought to tell her. The poor Elf had endured enough. “His psyche is strong, but he can’t convince anyone to do something they don’t want to do already.”

  “King Welson Kimard of Kyrro told me you were sent to kill Rek,” Jessend said. “Did the Elf change your mind with psyche when you met him?”

  “No,” Cleve gladly informed her. “My mind was changed when I found out the truth about which side he was on, and I never wanted to kill him anyway. He didn’t need any psyche to convince me.”

  “You’re saying that—without psyche—you came to the decision to attack your own king’s castle?” It was clear by her tone that she’d always assumed his mind was twisted into that choice.

  Cleve studied her face before deciding how to answer. For the first time, she seemed completely serious, worried even. When he’d shot an arrow at her, breaking her bow in two, she’d shown him excited shock, her mouth even on the verge of grinning. But she held no amusement with this question.

  “It was the only logical thing to do.”

  She forced a nervous smile. “If things ever get that bad again, come to me first.” She slid close to him, wrapping her arm around his and leaning against his shoulder. “You and I are a team now. We’ll help each other.”

  Guilt pushed the air out of his lungs in a sorrowful sigh. Out of pity, he twisted his neck to kiss Jessend on the top of her head.

  Poor little girl, he said to himself.

  She nestled against him even closer, intertwining her fingers with his.

  A gate lined with guards appeared to be the only way into the front of the Takary Palace. Their driver opened the carriage door for Jessend, and Cleve crawled out through her side before he realized the same man was coming around to open his door.

  “My betrothed shouldn’t be crawling out of carriages.” Jessend giggled. Her laugh was deep, lower than her voice even. It erupted from her stomach with a strong rhythm.

  The rest of her retinue started passing through the gate, lowering for a bow or a curtsy as they
went by the Princess.

  “Twist me horn, look at this place!” Captain Mmzaza got down on both knees and kissed Jessend’s left foot. “Thank you, me pretty. Captain Mmzaza’s been to Goldram before, but never inside the Takary Palace.” He clumsily rose to his feet, nearly losing his balance.

  Cleve wondered how the man had gotten so drunk when Cleve hadn’t seen any alcohol. Or was he captaining the ship in that state?

  “Is me bed big, and does it come with a woman?” Captain Mmzaza let out a cackle. “Just a joke. Captain Mmzaza can find his own woman.”

  Jessend had a frozen smile. “Thank you for sailing my father’s ship. You’re welcome to walk about The Nest and stay in Goldram as long as you’d like, but I regret to tell you that I cannot offer you a room within the palace.” She waved a guard over, going to her toes to whisper something in his ear.

  Captain Mmzaza’s head went so low, his chin nearly touched his chest.

  A strong feeling of pity surprised Cleve. The old captain had been nothing short of irritating during every conversation they’d shared, but Mmzaza so desperately wanted to be in the palace that Cleve couldn’t help but feel remorseful.

  “This guard will make sure you’re paid for your service,” Jessend said. “You can follow him into the palace and take a tour.”

  Now, Cleve’s pity was for the guard who had to spend the day with Captain Mmzaza.

  “Thank you, me pretty! Captain Mmzaza’s just happy he gets to see it.”

  Cleve decided to really look at the palace, being likely he’d be there for some time. It was quite magnificent, putting the castle in Kyrro City to shame.

  The palace wasn’t as tall as Welson Kimmard’s castle, but ten castles could fit within it if they were turned on their sides. It was mostly white, with gold decorations along the pillars and walls.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jessend said with a soft voice. “This is where I was going to tell you we’re to be married, if you were more patient when we were leaving Kyrro.”

  “How big is it?” Cleve asked, unwilling to allow the topic of matrimony to continue.

  “About a square mile. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.” Cleve looked down at Jessend to find her smiling up at him.

  “So this is the famous Takary Palace.” Rek came up with a hand to Cleve’s shoulder. “And what am I to do here?” His tone was polite. Cleve assumed he was just happy not to be gagged or confined to a room.

  “I’m sure my father or his adviser will have some idea,” Jessend answered confidently. She pointed to the marble steps ahead. “That’s my father’s adviser right there. Micah Vail is his name.”

  The man’s hair was black and straight, hanging down over his forehead and ears. There was an eerie contrast to the way he walked compared to his age. He seemed young, certainly no older than thirty. Yet, his carefully placed feet down each step showed a sense of purpose and duty as if he’d worked the same job for twenty years.

  “He’s a close friend to our family,” Jessend said.

  Micah Vail knelt down before Jessend when he was close. “I’m so happy to see you’ve returned safely, Princess.”

  “Micah, you’re embarrassing me,” Jessend said, letting out a light laugh. “Get up and hug me like usual.”

  He smiled and obeyed.

  “And who are these two…” Micah’s face showed shock when his eyes met Rek’s.

  Jessend laughed loudly. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you surprised, Micah. Yes, I brought an Elf.”

  But Micah’s eyes hadn’t even glanced at Rek’s ears yet. In fact, only after Jessend mentioned Rek’s race did they sway to the side for a look. His head snapped back even farther then.

  He was surprised about something else the first time, Cleve realized, now examining Rek to see if he could figure out what it was. That’s when Cleve noticed the Elf’s expression. His head was low, bent subtly to the side to look deep within Micah with psyche.

  “Jessend?” Rek spoke in a curious tone. “Didn’t you tell me you’ve never met a psychic before?”

  “I thought you said you had a good memory,” Jessend teased him. “Yes, I told you I thought they were a myth until I went to Kyrro.”

  Rek gestured toward Micah. “But this man—” Rek was interrupted by his own scream, dropping to a knee.

  Jessend hurried over to him. “What happened? Are you alright?”

  Rek had an angry glare at Micah. “It was nothing,” he muttered.

  “Jessend.” Micah turned toward her, holding his smile the entire time. “Would you mind if I took this Elf with me into the palace? I would like to speak to him.”

  Jessend seemed too confused to answer.

  Cleve knew what had happened, though. Yet, what he still couldn’t figure out was why Micah Vail was hiding that he was a psychic. This place might be dangerous for Rek.

  “I was hoping you would speak with Rek, anyway,” Jessend admitted. “He’s very powerful and can be of use to us.”

  “Thank you, Lady Jessend.” Micah nodded and motioned for Rek to follow him.

  The Elf shrugged at Cleve and hurried after the king’s adviser.

  “That was strange,” Jessend said. “Are you ready to see your new home?”

  A woman’s excited scream caught Cleve’s attention. “Jessend!”

  It must’ve been her sister. They looked too much alike for it not to be. She was running to meet them at the gate.

  “I’m so glad you’re back. Who’s this huge man?” Stopping a few steps from Cleve, the other woman intertwined her wrists and leaned forward toward him.

  “This is Cleve.” Jessend slapped him in the stomach and kept her hand there for a rub, making him feel like a pig being marketed on the street.

  “He looks like—”

  “I know,” Jessend interrupted. “Cleve, this is my twin sister, Lisanda.”

  He extended his hand for her to shake. She took it awkwardly, looking to Jessend with a pressed grin, her hand dead weight in his.

  “He doesn’t know much about nobility, does he?” Lisanda teased.

  “You should’ve seen him crawling out of my side of the carriage.”

  They each giggled.

  “Speaking of inappropriate behavior,” Jessend said, “what happened with Jek? Did stubborn Father make him the King’s Mage after all?”

  Lisanda’s mouth became a flat line with no trace of her recent smile. “A lot has happened. I’ll tell you later.” Her tone was grave. “Come inside. I’m sure Father wants to see you. He’s been eager to hear how many men you’ve brought from Kyrro.” Lisanda glanced around. “But is this the only one who came to fight for us?”

  Jessend sighed. “Kyrro is at war, and a Takary no longer controls it. I was only able to bring two, but wait until you see how good Cleve is with a weapon in his hand and the power of the psychic Elf. He’s with Micah right now. Father might be pleased if he’s not too frightened.”

  Lisanda gasped. “A true psychic?”

  “Yes. There are many of them in Ovira. But this one is the strongest of them all.” Jessend wore a proud smile.

  “And you said he’s an Elf?” Lisanda seemed to be holding back a squeal.

  “Yes. Let’s go, beautiful.” Jessend took her sister’s hand, wrapping her other arm around Cleve’s and pulling them both toward the palace. “There’s too much to do to be standing here any longer.”

  After a few steps, Jessend pulled on Cleve’s shoulder, forcing his head lower.

  Expecting a whisper, he was shocked when she pressed her lips against his cheek for a kiss.

  Didn’t Jessend tell me her father might be able to send help back to Kyrro? “If I was brought here to fight, what about the mention of your father’s army being sent overseas to fight for Kyrro?”

  Jessend was hopping up the stairs to the palace door two at a time, stopping abruptly the moment Cleve finished his question.

  “I don’t know too much about my father’s army,” she said. �
�He keeps that from me. But I meant that after we win this war, they might be able to help Kyrro.”

  Frustration twisted within him. She talks about war like a child would, as if it were some sort of game with a clear beginning and ending.

  Cleve thought to ask about this war but realized that question would be better for her father, or really anyone else besides her.

  They finished climbing the stairs in silence. Once Jessend had her arm hooked within Cleve’s, the guards politely avoided eye contact with him.

  “Father’s meeting with the King of Zav,” Lisanda told her twin.

  “Oh, I would like to meet him as well—the man’s likely to be our enemy in war,” Jessend added.

  “I don’t,” Lisanda said. “But if you’re going, then I’ll join you.”

  “Cleve, promise you’ll behave?” Jessend smiled to show she was teasing him. Her tone was as if they were old friends.

  Cleve didn’t understand the joke. “Yes,” he muttered.

  “You should’ve seen how I met Cleve,” Jessend said. “He stormed into his own king’s castle with thousands of rats, and then he shot at me with his bow, breaking mine in two. It was an amazing shot.”

  Lisanda peered around Jessend to show Cleve a skeptical look. “My sister likes to make things more dramatic than they really are. How did you two really meet?”

  “It’s true!” Jessend squawked.

  They’d crossed the long entrance hall by then, its marble floor decorated with blue outstretched wings in the center. A group of servants met Lisanda by the base of a set of curved stairs.

  “Anything we can get for you, my lady?” The servants each lowered their heads.

  “Thank you, but not at this time.”

  Cleve hadn’t had a good meal in too long, but he didn’t feel right bringing it up. The sisters seemed to be in a hurry to get to this meeting, Jessend hiking up the stairs two at a time again.

  “I’ll tell you the whole story later,” she told Lisanda. “When did the meeting begin?”

  “Just now.”

  The floor of the entire palace seemed to be tiled in marble. With its tall walls and curved ceiling painted white, the place was a little too colorless. Though, it did bring out the garish designs on the clothing of the few people walking about who weren’t guards or servants.