Bastial Steel

by Narro, B. T.

  The question of whether or not she’d told someone was burning in his brain, stealing all his focus.

  So he gave up trying to ignore it, letting it dwell in his mind and falling silent until they reached the walls of the city.

  The guards recognized Jek, letting him and Cleve through without question. At a slow pace, they rode their horses side by side down the King’s Road.

  “Cleve, I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t stop wondering something.” Jek paused, allowing Cleve to decide whether or not he was willing to hear the question.

  “What is it?”

  “How likely is it that you’ll be coming back?”

  Cleve tried to glance to his side as subtly as possible, not wanting Jek to know he was examining his expression.

  Jek kept his head straight ahead, though his eyes shifted to Cleve for a blink. Then Jek wiped his nose, as if suddenly self-conscious, and looked back ahead.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Cleve said. “I don’t want to tell you it’s likely unless I know that for sure. I don’t even know what the chances are that the chemist I told you about will know of a cure to your darkness. Then there’s the war…it could last years, we could lose…I could die.”

  “Stop.” Jek let out a defeated laugh. He started to say something, but no words came. Finally, he uttered, “I don’t want to get back to the palace depressed from such a bleak conversation. I appreciate your honesty, always have.”

  Again, Jek started to say something but coughed instead, as if the words got caught on the way out. He cleared his throat and tried again.

  “You saved my life…more than once. I would’ve suffered a truly terrible death from both the mookers and from Azaylee if it wasn’t for you. You’ve already done more than I could ask for. And I don’t know what would’ve happened to Harwin and Lisanda in that room if you weren’t there.”

  Cleve was about to tell him to stop. It was too strange to be complemented so generously, especially with the crowded streets filled with listening ears. But Jek seemed to be finished. He was awkwardly quiet.

  Then he cleared his throat again, following with, “I just wanted to say thank you and wish you the best of luck.”

  Cleve felt as if it was his turn to compliment Jek, but he was just as bad at giving them as he was at receiving them. Nothing came to mind. He knew the mage had done just as much to ensure that their mission was a success and that everyone came back alive, probably even more than Cleve had. But in that moment, with the bursting noise from the activity on the street, Cleve had no words for Jek, as much as he wanted to.

  It hit him how exhausted he truly was, how little sleep he’d been getting in the last few weeks. Having no idea what would come out, Cleve decided he just needed to start speaking.

  “You have my thanks as well.”

  Discouraged, Cleve let that be it.

  Or at least he thought so, until something else came to mind. “I have a feeling we’ll meet again, whether it be if I come back here or I see you in Kyrro when the Takarys decide they want to take control of Ovira.”

  Cleve still didn’t know how he would fix that dilemma. But there was too much else to worry about first for him to truly be concerned at that moment.

  “I have the same feeling,” Jek agreed with an embarrassed grin.

  “So let us stop this sentimental talk,” Cleve said.

  Jek laughed. “So be it.”

  Chapter 31

  Cleve and Jek both went around to the back of the palace to drop off their horses at the stables.

  It was no surprise for Cleve to find Jessend there with Silvie. The Princess ran and jumped at him with such startling speed it scared Nulya into rearing up.

  Trying to control the horse and deal with Jessend’s flying body at the same time made Cleve fall hard on his back from her impact. He could see Nulya running off out of the corner of his eye, Silvie chasing after her and hollering for her to stop.

  “It’s gotten too easy to knock you off your feet,” Jessend teased, climbing off Cleve and attempting to pull him up by wrapping her small hands around his right wrist and tugging with all her might.

  Once he was upright, she went to her toes, and he leaned down to let her give him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Lysha told us everything,” Jessend said. “But we expected you back sooner. Did something happen after she left, or did it really just take that long for you to recover from the mooker bites?”

  Cleve checked to make sure Silvie had Nulya under control. She did, walking his horse into the stables.

  Lisanda came running then. Jek smartly stepped away from his mount before she jumped up into his arms and matched her lips with his.

  “What took you so long?” Lisanda asked when the kiss was done.

  “I was just asking the same thing,” Jessend added.

  “Is Rek back?” Cleve needed to know before getting into anything else.

  “Yes,” Jessend answered. “Just got to the palace yesterday. He’s been in quite a mood, doesn’t want to tell anyone what happened with the Elves. Not that anyone really wants to be in the same room with him. His power is too scary.”

  Jek took the note from his pocket. “Lisanda, can you read this?”

  She squinted curiously as she took it. Then her eyes widened excitedly. Her mouth gaped as her gaze traveled up and down the page in disbelief.

  “Elvish?” Lisanda looked up at Jek. “Where did you get this?”

  Jessend came around to peer over her sister’s shoulder. Then she looked up as well, both of their large brown eyes waiting eagerly.

  “Can you just read it first?” Jek asked. “Then I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  Lisanda studied Jek for a moment, tilting her head as she did so. After her mouth scrunched, she looked down at the note again.

  During their silence, Cleve watched the door to the palace. Just then, Rek came out to the horse range. Cleve couldn’t help but smile, even if he’d wanted to hide it. There’d been a small fear he’d never see the Elf again, and he was only now able to admit that to himself.

  As Rek came closer, Cleve noticed a line on his face. A scar, Cleve realized. It couldn’t have been that new, a gash down his cheek, already completely closed up.

  Jessend seemed to shy away from him when she noticed his presence, taking a noticeable step back. Lisanda looked up from the note for a moment and then did the same.

  But Rek didn’t look threatening at all, besides the scar. He had a wide smile. His hand was out, ready to be shaken. Cleve grabbed it firmly and didn’t hold back his own grin.

  “Glad to see you again,” Rek said.

  “Same here,” Cleve agreed.

  Just then Lisanda covered her mouth as she read, muffling a gasp.

  “What is that?” Rek asked Cleve, pointing to the paper.

  “A note in Elvish that we…” Cleve wasn’t sure how to introduce it. “That we found…I guess.”

  Lisanda now had the note pressed against her bosom, a confused glare on her face. “Who wrote this note?” she asked Jek.

  “A woman,” Jek said. “A powerful psychic woman.”

  “She’s writing to someone by the name of Fatholl.”

  “Fatholl?” Rek nearly shouted the name. He reached out for the note, and Lisanda nervously handed it over.

  “It’s in Elvish,” she reminded him.

  “Bastial hell!” Rek screamed, handing it back to her. “What does it say about Fatholl?”

  Cleve hadn’t seen Rek so flustered before. He grew nervous at the sight of it.

  Lisanda’s eyes found Rek’s scar. They tried to avoid it but kept bouncing back. In an uneasy tone, she told him, “Whoever wrote this note seems to know him well. She discusses how many men she has, her riches in gold and weapons. She’s inquiring about how much his army has grown since the last time they spoke. She asks specifically…” Lisanda glanced down at the note again, reading: “What is our first target, and when will you be ready?”

&n
bsp; Lisanda took a moment to skim the note in silence. “That’s it,” she concluded, looking to Rek for answers.

  He leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

  The question somehow seemed dangerous to answer, the way he looked down at her, with his almond eyes shaped as slits.

  Jek must’ve felt the same uneasiness that Cleve did. He stepped in front of Lisanda. “If she says that’s it, then that’s it.”

  Rek straightened his back, giving out a discouraged sigh. “I apologize for frightening you all. Ever since arriving in Meritar, I’ve grown a feeling I can’t seem to get rid of—that everyone wants me either gone or dead. It’s made me quite…” His hands went to his chin as he thought of the right word. “Easily annoyed…perhaps insensitive.”

  “The Elves gave you that scar?” Jessend bravely asked.

  Rek’s hand went to it unconsciously. “One Elf did when he tried to stop me from leaving.” Rek passed a glance by each of their faces. “While all of you Humans are frightened of psyche and don’t seem to understand it, the Elves just simply condemn it.” Cleve noticed that Rek was now looking at him as he spoke, as if he didn’t care who else heard as long as Cleve did. “They talk of psyche as a weapon they wish they’d never discovered.”

  A disgusted look came about Rek’s face. “It’s madness. At sword point, they demanded I offer some of my blood and swear an oath to never use psyche again.”

  “Did you…” Cleve let his voice trail off. A desperate tone came out that he’d wished to hide better. The thought of his strongest ally losing his psychic ability made panic and despair start swelling in his chest.

  “Even if I did comply with their ridiculous blood oath, I wouldn’t follow it. I have no plans of going back to Meritar. It’s Fatholl I want to find.” He pointed at the note, tapping his finger in the air with the corner of his mouth scrunched. “He and the Elves with him are the ones I really wish to speak to. I only found that out too late once I arrived in Meritar.”

  “Who are they?” Jek asked.

  Rek made a fist to gesture with, grim determination in his tone. “With psyche being illegal in Meritar, a group of Elves had secret meetings to train out of sight. Their numbers grew, and rumors say they had plans to not only change the laws of Meritar when they had enough people on their side, but to free Greenedge from the desmarls—that was their ultimate goal.”

  Shock hit Cleve hard, buckling his knees for a breath. Did I kill a woman who was intent on saving the continent from desmarls?

  Jek muttered something to himself that Cleve didn’t catch. He had his hand on his forehead.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” Rek asked.

  Lisanda put her hand on Jek’s back. “What happened?”

  “It’s just…” Jek went silent.

  “We might’ve done something we’re about to regret,” Cleve said. It was too early, though. Cleve needed to hear the rest of what Rek had to say before passing judgment upon himself. “Please continue,” Cleve asked him.

  Rek took a breath to examine Cleve’s hard eyes before speaking again. “The majority of Elves know their homeland is at no risk of being taken over by the desmarls. An active volcano sits north of Meritar, while miles of mountains cover the southern edge. Then there’s Goldram and then Zav and Waywen even farther northwest. The Elves have walls thirty feet high around the city. No desmarls will be harassing anyone in Meritar, but at the same time the Elves are leaving the rest of the continent to fend for itself. Two hundred years from now, the Elves expect all of Greenedge to be covered by desmarls except for Meritar, and they plan to allow this to happen.”

  “I think most people already have assumed that,” Jek said.

  “They have,” Lisanda agreed.

  Rek raised a finger, his eyebrows arching as well. “Except there has been a small group of Elves who’ve always disagreed with this thought. In fact, my direct ancestors are those who left Meritar by ship to make a home in Ovira.”

  “Merejic,” Cleve said aloud before thinking. When heads turned to him, he felt the need to continue. “There was a territory on the northwestern edge of Ovira where Elves lived. Rek was born there.”

  Rek nodded, continuing for Cleve. “But many were killed by an army of a different type, Krepps led by Doe and Haemon—there’s no reason to get into that now. The surviving Elves fled on ship, back to Greenedge. But they weren’t welcomed back into Meritar. They’d broken two rules: practicing psyche and leaving. They’ve taken up residence somewhere else.”

  Again, Rek made a fist. “Though I don’t know where. The rest of the Elves who practiced psyche left to join them. Fatholl is known to be their leader. But there are some rumors that give insight to a controversial plan. Many in Meritar say this group of Elves wants to first take over the warring Human territories: Goldram, Zav, Waywen, and Presoren. Once they have control, then they can focus on building the army they need to sweep through the land, ridding it of desmarls for good.” Rek was looking right at Cleve, as if ready to judge his actions.

  Cleve felt chills coursing down his spine, for he knew it was his turn next, time to explain what he’d done.

  “That’s all I know.” The Elf’s voice was nearly a whisper.

  Jek spoke for Cleve. “She was going to kill me.” He held out his palms. “We had to do it.”

  “Who?” Lisanda took his cheek in her palm to turn him toward her.

  “Golden girl…she exists,” Jek said, taking her hand to hold. “Well, she did.”

  The Takary sisters each gasped.

  “From the song?” Lisanda asked incredulously.

  “No,” Jessend uttered in a grunt. “Can’t be.”

  “It was her,” Jek said, enclosing his other hand around Lisanda’s. “She was the leader of some village in southern Zav. She was probably somewhere in her fifties but still such a powerful psychic.”

  “What’s this song that she’s part of it?” Rek asked.

  The mage let go of Lisanda’s hand as he told the story of the four sisters—the youngest being “Golden Girl,” named for the color of her hair. Unable to meet her family’s expectations, she traveled to Meritar to live with the Elves, eventually learning the secrets of psyche. When she returned, she was feared and outcast, never to be seen again.

  “She ended up in that village somehow,” Jek said. “But based on that note, I’d wager she’d lived with Fatholl and the other psychic Elves at some point. She clearly was involved with them. She even admitted how her name would be famous again, her new name: Azaylee. She wanted to hide her old self so much she was willing to kill me for discovering it. But Cleve saved me.”

  Jessend seemed to figure out what Jek was saying. She covered her mouth, her wide eyes looking up at Cleve.

  Then she let her hand drop to whisper, “You killed her.”

  Cleve couldn’t answer with words, not at that moment. He took in a slow breath instead, then nodded.

  “I didn’t realize she wished to fight the desmarls,” Cleve said, guilt making his words feel too much like an excuse for his liking.

  “But that doesn’t matter!” Jek grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t ever regret what you did. She brought this on herself. She was going to kill me!”

  Lisanda gestured with the note. “And it sounds like she and Fatholl had plans to take over the Human territories before they fight the desmarls. Remember, this note is about finding their first target. They’re probably referring to a city.”

  “You’re right,” Rek said. “It goes along with everything I heard in Meritar before I made it out of there.” Rek’s mouth twisted as if he needed to spit. “My own kind in Meritar tried to kill me, and those who’ve separated themselves from Meritar—many of whom are my kin from Ovira—have plans to fight against the Humans. I don’t know what to think of my fellow Elves. It’s too much to consider at once.”

  “Rek,” Cleve said to take his friend’s attention before thoughts of despair continued to confuse him. “I know what you’re feeling. I’
ve felt much of the same conflict myself recently from being here. But I’ve come to realize that we can’t fight two wars at once. Let’s worry about Kyrro first. Then we can discuss other matters.”

  Cleve turned to face the others, Jessend specifically. “I apologize that there isn’t more we can do to help. But the war in Ovira is our priority—”

  Jessend took his hand to interrupt him. “We understand. You don’t need to explain.” She went to her toes to kiss his check. “But I have a feeling this isn’t the last we’ll see of each other,” she said with a sly grin.

  Cleve knew then that it was wrong of him not to trust Jessend to keep their talks to herself. She wouldn’t tell others of his moments of weakness. It was silly to even worry.

  “Go home, Cleve,” Jek said with cheery smile. “We can take care of things here.”

  “The King has already prepared a ship and a crew,” Rek stated. “We just need a captain because no one would volunteer to sail a ship across the Starving Ocean and back, and the King isn’t going to force anyone on his staff to do it. He’ll agree to pay, if we find someone.”

  “What about Captain Mmzaza?” Cleve asked.

  “I thought of him, but I don’t know where he is.” Rek’s tone was sad, as if he were telling Cleve the old madman had died.

  “Have you checked the prison?” Cleve asked.

  Some spirit came back into Rek’s face, his grin forming once again. “Prison, of course.” He looked to the Takary sisters. “Has anyone checked?”

  “No,” Jessend answered first. “I suppose we found him in prison in Kyrro. It wouldn’t be too surprising for him to be locked up again.”

  “I’m sure he’s there,” Cleve said.

  Chapter 32

  Sure enough, the prison guard in the depths of the palace knew exactly who Captain Mmzaza was.

  “The man’s been in here for weeks,” the guard answered, opening the metal grille to the prison so the jailer could take them the rest of the way.