Bastial Steel

by Narro, B. T.

  “What do you want?” Cleve said, before Enri decided to give his archer the order to shoot.

  Then Cleve felt rain touch his arms. The wind was picking up as well.

  “It’s going to be a stormy night, boys,” Enri said. “And we don’t want to stay out here any longer than we need to, so help us out and answer my questions.” He shrugged. “Or we might just kill you here.” With his plain tone, Enri did a fine job demonstrating how little their lives meant to him. “What are your names? Tell me.”

  Jek turned to whisper to Cleve, “Are any of them psychics?”

  “I can’t tell unless they use psyche on me. No one has—” An arrow flew between their faces, interrupting Cleve.

  “You do anything but answer my question again, and you’re both dead,” Enri said. He sounded enraged, perhaps even embarrassed he wasn’t doing well at frightening Cleve and Jek.

  Proud and impatient, Cleve realized. Those can be the most dangerous kinds of men.

  “I’m Jek Trayden. This is Cleve Polken. We’re from Goldram, allies of Zav—”

  “We know nothing about allies,” Enri interrupted. “We may live in Zav, but this here is our land.” He thumped his chest. “Now what are you doing out here?”

  “Just headed back to Goldram,” Jek answered. Cleve could hear some nervousness slipping out. It was becoming clear a conversation wasn’t going to be the last thing they shared with these men.

  “Do you work for the King?” Enri asked, taking a step forward.

  “We do,” Jek answered, turning to show Cleve a concerned glance.

  Cleve tightened his grip on his sword.

  “You stay honest like that and you’ll live.” Enri tilted his head at Jek, as if giving advice. “How many Bastial steel swords are both of you worth? I’m thinking five. That sound about right?”

  “Maybe a dagger between the two of us,” Jek answered. “We mean very little to the King of Goldram, just low-level scouts who can be replaced. It’s better if you let us go.”

  Enri took another step forward, now with a smile. “Want to know how I know you’re lying?”

  Jek folded his arms. “It’s the truth.”

  “First, you’re not a very good liar. Second, you’re an idiot. Your friend here has a Bastial steel sword on him right now.” Enri gestured with a hand.

  Cleve felt like an idiot himself for having the sword out of its sheath, but then again he didn’t know Jek was going to try lying.

  Jek looked over and slapped his forehead reflexively. “Bastial hell, Cleve.”

  Before he could retort, Enri pointed his sword at Cleve. The wolves started snarling again. “One more lie and he dies right now.” Enri held Cleve in his gaze, continuing to point his sword at him. It was several breaths before he finally looked back at Jek. “I’m asking you again: How many are you worth?”

  “Maybe four between the two of us, could be five.”

  Everything always boils down to Bastial steel.

  Cleve was certain now that this continent would’ve been better off without the precious metal, especially given how few Bastial steel weapons were used to kill desmarls compared to fellow Humans.

  Jek seemed to have the same thought, for Cleve noticed him rolling his eyes when he answered Enri.

  “Now, you’re going to come with us and wait in our village while we send a message to your king,” Enri instructed, his confident tone really beginning to irritate Cleve. “If you cooperate, you won’t be harmed.”

  “You can’t possibly expect that to work?” Jek said, seemingly perplexed. If he wasn’t legitimately confused, then he sure acted it well.

  In return, Enri seemed puzzled by Jek’s question. But he didn’t let his confusion show for long. Soon, anger had taken back over his face. “It’ll work fine, and if you resist, you’ll die.”

  “Yes, you can take us back and hold us captive. Of course, you can get a message to Danvell Takary. And yes, they’ll even come over here with Bastial swords…but not to give them to you. They’ll be in the hands of a few hundred men sent here to kill you.” Jek leaned back and folded his arms assertively. “Your plan won’t work.”

  “It will when you write the note yourself, pleading for the King of Goldram to oblige,” Enri replied, a cool smile stuck to his face. “You’ll tell him that we’ll kill you if he sends an army. Someone within the palace can verify your handwriting, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, but why would I do that?” Jek asked.

  “Because we’re also sending them one of your fingers…and if you resist, we’ll send your whole hand instead.”

  Jek stared at Enri as silence fell back upon them. Cleve tried to read what Jek was thinking, but his face told none of his thoughts in that moment. He held no expression, as if he was simply waiting for Enri to act.

  Finally, Jek turned to Cleve, showing the same face as he had to Enri. It was as if he was asking, what do you want to do?

  Cleve knew what he wanted to do, but he didn’t know how to tell Jek without making it clear to the others.

  Then he realized it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if they’d have the element of surprise anyway.

  “You picked the wrong two people,” Cleve muttered, running toward the old man.

  Complete shock made Enri’s eyes double in size. “Shoot them!” He fell backward as he said it, quickly scrambling back to his feet to retreat.

  Cleve rolled to the side to dodge the arrow he knew had to be coming. Amid the battle cries of his enemies, he still noticed the sound of an arrow pass by his ear.

  “Get the archer!” Cleve yelled to Jek, popping back to his feet to chase down the old man.

  There was a flash of light—a fireball. A man screamed.

  “He’s down,” Jek yelled back.

  Just before Cleve was in range to take off Enri’s leg, he noticed a blur of gray leaping toward him. The damn wolves.

  He turned and slashed, feeling his sword drive into the poor beast’s skull.

  There were two. Where’s the other?

  Lightning flashed through the sky, rain pouring down. Cleve saw the other wolf then, rushing toward Jek. The mage held his wand steady and released another fireball. It sent the animal spiraling backward.

  Two men were on Cleve next, each one cursing at him. One had on a helmet, and Cleve kicked him away after ducking under a wild swing.

  The other one jabbed his weapon forward. The motion was sloppy, leaving him undefended. Cleve put his sword through the man’s chest after dodging his attack.

  The first man was back, along with another wearing a steel helmet. Cleve thought to check on Enri, but he didn’t have time to look around. Who knew what the old man was doing? Did Jek take care of him already? Cleve had to jump backward to dodge the two men furiously trying to drive their weapons into him.

  There was another flash, but this one sent Cleve soaring for what felt like seconds before he hit the ground. Thunder came with it, so loud it shook his heart. On reflex, he let go of his sword before somersaulting three times when he hit the ground. He didn’t want his weapon to end up in one of his limbs.

  His ears were ringing. He didn’t see anyone for a moment—or really anything, for that matter, he soon came to realize.

  He tried to yell, “Jek? Jek!” But he couldn’t even hear his own voice over the loud ringing stuck in his ears.

  Cleve pushed himself to his feet, only to trip and fall. The second time had the same result.

  He shouted again, and he could hear his voice this time. It was muffled, as if he heard himself in the distance. What was that? Stumbling, he found his sword and looked to where he thought everyone should be.

  Three men were picking themselves up off the ground. Jek was there too, shaking his head while doubled over.

  “Was that you?” Cleve yelled to Jek, running over to help him stand up.

  Jek was even more dazed than Cleve, shutting his eyes and opening them as if he couldn’t see and thought blinking would help.

&
nbsp; Rain and wind were terrorizing Cleve’s senses as they started sharpening back to normal.

  “Jek! Can you hear me?” Cleve grabbed his face and patted his cheek. Jek finally looked over and seemed to recognize Cleve. “Jek—”

  “What was that?” Jek interrupted. He pointed his wand and let out some light.

  There was a circle of charred dirt around the bodies of two men, all the grass in that area disintegrated.

  “Lightning.” Cleve realized.

  The three men who were left seemed to have realized it as well. Two of them threw off their helmets. The other was the old man, pointing and shouting orders that Cleve couldn’t hear over the wind and rain.

  Whatever was to happen needed to be soon. The storm was raging. Lightning could strike again, and maybe this time it wanted a taste of Cleve’s sword. Jek was holding his wand out, steadily moving toward the three men.

  Then Cleve noticed two more were coming from behind the three men in front of them. They were smaller, and one was a girl hollering at the top of her lungs, chasing after a boy.

  The kids who we met earlier, Cleve realized. The boy had a sword now.

  “Enri stop him!” the girl was shouting.

  The boy ran by the three men, who were just turning around as he passed them. To Cleve’s amazement, the boy ran right at Jek.

  “Stop,” Jek tried to tell him, beginning to back up but keeping his wand steady. “Stop right now!”

  Cleve ran to intercept the boy, slamming a shoulder into him to knock him off his feet. From the corner of his eye he noticed the three men coming at him now.

  “That’s my grandson!” Enri screamed. One of them was struck by Jek’s fireball before he reached Cleve. A second one turned to chase after Jek before he could shoot another.

  Cleve knew he only had a brief moment to deal with Enri if he was to protect Jek from the man running toward him and the boy, who was now back on his feet. So Cleve ran at Enri and slammed his Bastial sword into the old man’s weapon as hard as he could, knocking it from his hand. With a quick spin, he brought his sword down across Enri’s chest, opening up his flesh.

  There was another flash of lightning somewhere nearby. The boom of thunder almost took Cleve off his feet. But he kept his balance and ran after the man going at Jek. There were only two attackers left now, and one was the boy.

  The girl was still screaming, “Stop! Stop! You have to stop!”

  But no one listened, so Cleve certainly wasn’t going to, either. He didn’t even know who she was referring to, him or the boy.

  Luckily, Jek was quick, ducking under the man’s swing and coming back toward Cleve for protection.

  The boy then engaged Cleve with the man close behind him.

  Unwilling to kill someone so young, Cleve blocked the blow of his sword and hit him in the face to knock him backward and hopefully daze him.

  The other man took out a knife and threw it at Cleve. He had to duck to avoid it. The man followed his knife attack by running at Cleve and jumping through the air before Cleve could get back upright.

  Barely getting his weapon up in time, Cleve did manage to block the assault.

  “You’ve lost!” Jek shouted. “Put down your weapons!”

  “Do it!” the girl screamed in agreement. “Please stop.” She was crying so hard it was louder than the violent wind.

  But the man and the boy didn’t stop.

  “You killed them,” the boy said, clearly not dazed and gritting his teeth as he stepped overconfidently toward Cleve. The boy screamed as he swung his weapon through the rain and wind. Cleve rolled forward to go between the boy and the man coming from his other side.

  He heard the boy scream and the man curse. Turning, Cleve saw the boy fall to his knees, grabbing his chest. Cleve had seen no burst of light, though. He didn’t know what Jek had done to them. But then he noticed the man dropping his weapon and crouching over the boy, cursing even more now.

  “You stabbed him!” the girl yelled.

  “It was an accident,” the man replied.

  By then, the boy had fallen on his back. Jek and Cleve cautiously approached.

  The girl was there first, weeping.

  Cleve couldn’t find Nulya. He figured she’d run off when she heard the lightning. He whistled before he took the time to lean over the boy and check his wound. His little chest had been pierced deeply.

  “It missed his heart,” Cleve said. “He may live with the help of a chemist.”

  The boy was gasping in fright. “I don’t want to die! Please! Help me! Help me!”

  The man shot up to look around. “Where are the horses?”

  “Scared by the lightning,” Cleve answered. He stood and whistled again for Nulya.

  “Please…please…” The boy sputtered out between gasps. “Don’t let me die.”

  The girl fell to her knees and wept over him.

  “Jek, can we get some light to look for our horses?” Cleve asked.

  Jek had just come back with his bandana and backpack. “I found them, already,” he said, leaning over the boy for a look. “They’re coming now.” He took a shirt from his backpack and tied it around the boy’s chest to put pressure on his wound. “Our horses will be here soon. We’ll take you back to the village.”

  Cleve and Jek’s mounts came then. Cleve positioned himself to lift the boy, but the one man left jumped to his feet and grabbed his sword from where he’d let it fall.

  He pointed the weapon at Cleve. “You will not take him anywhere. Give me your horse, and I’ll bring him to the village.”

  Cleve considered killing the man right then. There was no time to argue, and his anger made the idea tempting.

  Luckily, Jek spoke first. “Shut up. Put down your weapon and shut your damn mouth. You will not take our horses, and you will die if you threaten us again.”

  The man lowered his sword. His shoulders slumped.

  “Hurry!” the girl screamed.

  The boy was shaking now, gasping wildly. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

  “Put him on my horse,” Jek said, climbing on and then reaching out his hand.

  Cleve picked up the boy and carefully put him on Jek’s saddle.

  They rode off while Cleve jumped on Nulya.

  “I’m coming with you,” the man stated.

  “You’re walking back.” Cleve was about to give Nulya a kick, but the girl grabbed his leg.

  “Please,” she pleaded, still weeping. “Take me back with you.”

  Cleve pulled her up by the arm. She grabbed his stomach to hold on as Nulya started galloping after Jek’s mount.

  There was another strike of lightning, and this one Cleve actually saw. It hit a tree on the mountain behind the village, catching it on fire. Thunder followed, building and building until Cleve felt it rumbling within him. Jek’s horse and Nulya both stopped, rearing up and whinnying in fear.

  Cleve felt the girl’s grip come loose as she fell.

  When Nulya was under control again, Cleve saw Jek had fallen, along with the boy, who’d been in front of Jek on his saddle. Cleve yelled at the girl to get up, practically throwing her on the saddle behind him when she offered her hand, and then galloped over to Jek.

  He dismounted and knelt to pick up the boy again while Jek got back on his horse. But Cleve was struck with numbness.

  No, not now!

  Instead of falling on the boy, he did manage to turn enough to avoid him. He tried to fight the paralysis, but he couldn’t even speak. All he could do was utter a whimper.

  The boy was either silent or unconscious by then. Cleve couldn’t lift his head to see for himself.

  He felt someone kicking him, at least he thought he did. “Get up and help him! What are you doing?” It was the girl. She pulled his hair now—that he could feel.

  Strength was returning, and he popped back up. Taking a breath, he scooped his arms under the boy and put him on the saddle in front of Jek. They were off again.

  For some
reason, the girl was still kicking and punching him. So he turned and grabbed her wrist, dragged her to Nulya, got on himself, and then pulled her up next.

  She was still pounding his back and crying as they started catching up to Jek’s horse. It seemed as if she was yelling at him, but no words were clear enough to understand through her weeping.

  “Stop,” he told her. “Or I’ll throw you off this horse.”

  She didn’t let up. “You want him to die! You’re playing games, and he’s bleeding to death. I should throw you from this horse.” He felt her hands grab his sides and start to push, pull…frantically she was swaying his body in all directions at once.

  Cleve couldn’t turn behind him while Nulya was galloping. He barely could look at the girl over his shoulder without falling off.

  “Stop right now!” Cleve screamed.

  She was using all her strength by then. He could feel it. And he was going to fall soon.

  He managed to slow Nulya to a halt before the girl was successful. He jumped to the ground in preparation of removing her safely from his saddle, but then the girl tried to grab the reins and speed off.

  Fortunately, he quickly was able to get her little wrists under control. He moved them both to one hand so he could use his other to scoop her legs, putting her stomach on his shoulder.

  She screamed and thrashed, nearly making him lose his grip on her. But he managed to get her on the ground without throwing her down and jumped back onto Nulya, leaving the girl there.

  With her screams dying out from the noise of the wind, Cleve could hear himself breathing heavily. Guilt came next, twisting inside of him hard. He thought about going back for her but decided against it.

  He had other things to worry about, like what the villagers were going to think when he and Jek brought in the dying grandson of their apparent leader.

  Chapter 25

  If it wasn’t for the light from Jek’s wand, they no longer would’ve been able to find the wooden fence of the village. The darkness was too thick, the rain so hard it was as if Cleve were standing beneath a waterfall.

  Jek was stopped at the wall of the village. Cleve could hear him screaming, but not what about until he got closer.