Bastial Steel

by Narro, B. T.

  “Weeks?” Jessend said with a laugh, taking Cleve’s hand on the way down the stairs. “He must’ve been imprisoned soon after we got here.”

  The air was cool but stale, reminding Cleve of his short time in a cell below King Welson Kimard’s castle. He wondered what the chances were he would end up back there.

  Surely the King of Kyrro hadn’t changed his mind about Cleve and Rek. Cleve would need to prove himself first, and he would have to figure out a way to do so before the King knew he was back.

  “He’s over there,” the jailer told them, pointing with his lantern to one of the cells.

  “Who’s ‘der?” The old captain’s voice echoed against the walls, his strange manner of speaking more prevalent than ever. “These bars are too thin for Captain Mmzaza to put his head through.”

  Cleve showed himself, Jessend at his side.

  “What did you do now?” Cleve asked, not sure he wanted to know, as the captain was coming with them no matter what.

  Captain Mmzaza slapped his knee, giving off a shaky laugh. “Hohoho, if it isn’t the giant boy who wouldn’t know a joke if it bedded his mother.”

  Not even understanding the analogy, Cleve instantly remembered how easily Captain Mmzaza could get on his nerves.

  “And his beauty’s here as well!” Captain Mmzaza reached through the bars as if to take Jessend’s hand for a kiss.

  Shockingly to Cleve, she let him have it with a smile. He puckered his lips and kissed her loudly three times. She pulled back before he was ready to let go.

  “Aren’t you delicious!” Captain Mmzaza said. “Though, I must complain. This prison of your father’s will make a man mad, even one already as mad as me. The light is low, the food grim, the shitter too small, and the meals—oh, the meals! We only get two per day. Two meals for Captain Mmzaza is one too few, especially when all there is to do is eat and shit.”

  The old man snapped his head back as if suddenly realizing something. “Are you here to get Captain Mmzaza out?”

  “Perhaps.” Jessend turned to the jailer. “Why is he in here?”

  “He smashed some street merchant’s melons, made a terrible mess.”

  “He was trying to sell me rancid fruit!” Captain Mmzaza interjected.

  The jailer ignored him and continued. “Then he refused to pay and got in a scuffle with a few guards.”

  “They put their hands on me!” Captain Mmzaza yelled.

  “That’s when he started to spit.”

  “No one puts their hands on Captain Mmzaza!”

  “I see,” Jessend said. “Well, I’ll come back with my father’s papers for his release.”

  “Thank you, me pretty. Thank you!”

  “And then you’re steering the ship back to Gendock,” Cleve added. “That’s the only reason you’re being released.”

  “Good. Captain Mmzaza doesn’t like this place anyway.” Cleve was curious how much of it he’d actually seen before being imprisoned…but not curious enough to ask.

  He went with Jessend to meet with her father one last time, his fingertips grazing the handle of his chipped sword several times on the way there.

  They were informed by guards that Danvell Takary was already in the throne room.

  Jek was just leaving by the time Cleve got there, Lisanda hooked around his arm as they walked down the hall, unaware Cleve and Jessend were behind them.

  The guards let him inside. Jessend came in with him.

  Danvell stood to smile at her. “Do you mind if I speak to Cleve alone?”

  “Alright.” She patted Cleve’s stomach before leaving.

  With the door shut behind him, Cleve noticed there weren’t even any guards left. It was just him and the King of Goldram.

  “Can I see your sword?” Danvell asked, not yet sitting back down on his throne, but stepping forward instead.

  Cleve felt some nervousness sparking within his chest as he pulled it from its sheath. The King let out a breath. It wasn’t quite a gasp, but close.

  “Lysha told me everything that happened before leaving you and Jek…and Jek has just finished telling me the rest.”

  “So he told you what happened to this weapon?” Cleve asked.

  “No. But the young mage isn’t as good as you at keeping information hidden,” Danvell said. “I asked him how you both got out of the village with everyone chasing you, and he told me he held everyone back while you broke through the gate. But then his face froze. I could tell he’d already said more than he wanted to. I had a feeling you had to use the sword to get through the gate and had damaged my gift to you. I listen to a lot of tales, Cleve. I know when people are keeping things from me. Were you not going to tell me?”

  “I wasn’t,” Cleve admitted. “I didn’t want you to believe I would mistreat the weapon if I had a choice.”

  Danvell laughed as if Cleve had said something amusing. “I realize we haven’t met too long ago, but I do feel as if I know you, Cleve Polken, son of Dex Polken,” he said. “I know your father also, at least the story of him. And I know your mother was a mage, Lena Polken. I know they were both killed when you were still a boy, their bodies found impaled by arrows with the shooter undiscovered.”

  He looked from the sides of his eyes, sly and cunning for the first time, reminding Cleve of Jessend. “You might think my daughters and I don’t speak much, but we do. Jessend’s told me a lot about you, yet none of it has surprised me. I saw your true self the first day we met, and nothing you’ve done has diminished the impression you gave me. I know you would never mistreat a gift, you would never mistreat Jessend, and you will always do what you think to be right, as hard as it might be. This is obvious to anyone who meets you, Cleve.”

  The King paced behind his throne and leaned down to get something. “I was going to give this to you anyway, even if you hadn’t chipped my first gift.” He came back with an extremely long sword in a leather sheath dyed black. It shone in the light dancing from the lamps—now the only light of the palace with the sun completely set.

  Danvell handed it to Cleve without drawing the sword. “Go ahead, take a look,” he said with a knowing grin.

  The bright Bastial steel seemed to flicker as Cleve pulled it from its case. The weapon was the longest sword he’d ever wielded, but it was still lighter than any short sword he’d felt. There was a slight bend to it, like the curve from a woman’s hip to her ankle.

  He gave it a slash, then another. It seemed to cut the air, it was so sharp. It even made a different noise than normal steel, a lighter sound, like a quiet breeze whispering.

  Cleve even noticed an aroma.

  As awkward as it was, he sniffed the weapon. It smelled like a mixture of soap and blood, beauty and gore—for that’s what it was, he realized. The most stunning weapon he’d ever seen, yet the destruction he could deal with it was startling.

  “I don’t deserve such a kingly gift,” he admitted. “Why are you giving it to me?”

  The King lowered his hand for Cleve’s old, chipped weapon. “Think of it as an upgrade, not a gift,” Danvell said as he accepted the other sword. “I want you to think of me whenever you use it. Think of our agreement.”

  Danvell started toward a table a few steps away. “You’ll do everything in your power to make the transition peaceful when my army comes to Ovira…both you and Rek will do this as long as Jessend and Lisanda agree to the plan I propose.” Danvell waved Cleve over, pointing at a contract and handing him a quill. “You’ll sign this agreement, and you’ll follow it, correct?”

  Cleve nodded. “I’m in your debt,” he said. “I just hope you won’t assist Tenred and the Krepps in this war against my people in Kyrro.”

  “No, of course not,” Danvell answered. “And there’s too much to do here for that to even be a worry. Our war is of a far greater scale than yours. There’s no way we’ll be done first.”

  Especially not with an army of psychic Elves yet to introduce themselves. “Did Jek tell you about the Elvish note?”


  “Yes, I heard about the Elves.” Danvell’s steady eyes were solemn. “Jek’s on his way to discuss it further with Micah Vail. I’ll be joining them once we’re finished here.” The King looked at the dark sky out the window. “They say there’s a storm coming tomorrow morning. You should leave before then or you might be stuck here until it passes. Are you ready?”

  Cleve was about to say that he’d been ready to leave the first day he’d arrived, but not only would it be an insult, it wasn’t true. He was a different man now. It felt as if his former self was a child—eager to fight when he hadn’t even killed a man, when he hadn’t even figured out how to overcome the torment that his parents’ death caused him.

  His weakness was ignored before…that was his way of staying strong. But now, he actually could feel his strength, the same strength Reela found within him. It was there, burning to be used like a live flame daring to be put out.

  “I am,” he answered.

  “Then this is goodbye.”

  They shook hands.

  “For now,” Cleve added.

  Danvell gave a chuckle. “For now,” he agreed.

  Cleve’s final goodbyes with Jessend, Lisanda, Jek, and Micah were simple hugs and handshakes, along with promises they would see each other again.

  Jessend’s servant, Gerace, escorted him out.

  Not knowing what to say to her, Cleve simply stated, “Thank you for your help.”

  “I’m proud to be of service,” she answered confidently, her subtle smile holding great honor. “You remember how to say my name?” Gerace teased, though Cleve could tell there was a seriousness to her question he didn’t quite understand, as if she actually was worried he’d forgotten.

  “Gerace, Gerace, Gerace,” he answered, saying it three times just to show how confident he was.

  She applauded excitedly.

  At the door, they shared an awkward hug, then she ran off at full speed, nearly colliding with two guards patrolling toward them.

  I’ll never understand women, was all Cleve could take from it.

  Outside, the storm was preparing to strike, the air already wet with oncoming rain.

  Silvie and Rek were at the base of the stone steps. Rek got on his mount at the sight of Cleve. Silvie shook Cleve’s hand before passing off Nulya’s reins.

  “How have you and Jessend been?” Cleve asked.

  Silvie’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Very good.”

  “Let’s go, Cleve,” Rek said. “We don’t have much time, and they’ve already taken Captain Mmzaza and a small crew of sailors to the docks. I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone.”

  “You’re right.” Cleve climbed on Nulya’s back, allowing Silvie to help him up even though he didn’t need it.

  “Take care of Jessend,” Cleve told her.

  “We’ll take care of each other,” Silvie answered.

  Leaving the palace grounds, Cleve realized he was sad to go. But then thoughts of his house in the Academy sprouted up, and he felt himself smiling. He had no idea where he would put Nulya, but he didn’t care. He would figure it out.

  He was going home.

  Chapter 33

  The boat Danvell Takary had given them was no great ship, especially not to Captain Mmzaza. Once everyone was aboard and the horses safely stowed in the cabin, the gnarled old seaman claimed, “I’ve dropped vessels mightier than this one into a chamber pot.”

  Cleve was about to tell him that he should just be happy he was free, but then Cleve remembered Jessend doing the same to him when she’d put him on a boat in Gendock.

  “I’ll be back. The rowers need a good shouting,” Captain Mmzaza said, making his way over to them. “If we’re going to beat this storm, they’d better be rowing all night!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  Cleve decided to make himself comfortable in his shared cabin with Rek. There was a lot of sleep that needed catching up on.

  The Elf was already inside, removing his belt. “You’re going to have to tell me everything that happened after I left,” Rek said. “Apparently I missed a lot.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  Rek put his hand on Cleve’s shoulder, showing a brotherly smile. “We did it. We’re going back, and I have you to thank. The Elves were no help at all.”

  Cleve felt a spark in his mind, the familiar touch of psyche. Rek’s hand came off quickly, as if the spark had reached him as well.

  “You’ve grown even stronger than when we were last on a ship together,” Rek said. “I think you’re finally ready for the truth.”

  Sleep could wait—what was Rek talking about? Cleve knew he didn’t even need to ask. His face was already showing his confusion.

  “How is it you don’t know what I’m referring to?” Rek asked genuinely.

  Then it hit Cleve…my parents. He knows about their deaths. He and Rek had discussed it briefly when they’d first met. When he looked into my mind on the hill outside his cabin. There was something the King of Kyrro had told Rek that he didn’t wish to let slip.

  “I’m ready,” Cleve answered confidently. I was ready weeks ago.

  But Rek’s expression made Cleve already begin to question his confidence. The Elf looked to be on the verge of crying.

  What’s this? It made Cleve so uneasy, he couldn’t stand still. He had to pace the small cabin as he waited for Rek to gather his thoughts.

  “I never thought how hard it would be to tell you.” Rek sat on his bed, giving a loud exhale. “I was so worried for you, I didn’t realize how difficult it was going to be for me just to say it.”

  “Say it.” Cleve felt his fists clenching, suddenly having an idea what must be so hard to tell him. “Did Welson Kimard kill my parents?” His voice was becoming angry, louder as well. He could hear it, but he couldn’t stop. “Did the King of Kyrro order the deaths of my mother and father?”

  When Rek was unable to look up from the floor, Cleve knew the answer.

  But why?

  Cleve waited as patiently as he could, but it was impossibly difficult when he had no clue as to when Rek would answer him.

  Soon he was shouting. “Why, Rek? Tell me!”

  Rek reached out toward Cleve’s arm. “I think it would be wise if I calmed you before continuing.”

  Cleve stepped back, snapping his arm away. “I don’t want to be calm. Just tell me what you know and leave the rest up to me.”

  Rek was nodding sullenly. “That’s a good plan to start with.” He took a breath and then stood, still unable to meet Cleve’s eyes. “When Welson summoned me, it was because of the worries he’d received from students and teachers at the Academy. Gossip spread throughout Kyrro City as well, that I was dangerously powerful. As I’ve told you, people are scared of what they don’t understand, and everyone has secrets and even more doubts.”

  The Elf gave another sigh, so long and slow Cleve felt the urge to interrupt it by demanding that Rek continue. Though, he was able to contain himself and remain silent, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited.

  Rek continued. “Welson had a few secrets he was so worried I would discover, they were bubbling at the surface of each thought. I could barely focus on anything else, they were so strong. It was as if I could feel them.”

  Rek finally met Cleve’s eyes. “Remember, during my time in the castle, Welson was always frightened of me—of his younger brother.” Rek laughed bitterly. “But there was something different about this fear I was sensing. I hadn’t seen him in years. What had he done that he was so worried I would discover? My curiosity got the better of me, and I started fishing, working to get the information out of him. I was certain it had to do with me, or at least with the reason behind summoning me. There had to be something else behind my visit besides mere worries and complaints from his citizens. But I was wrong. There were other secrets he was trying to hide.”

  Rek eyes were glistening. He closed them for a breath as he continued. “That was the first and last time I’ve ever
prodded the truth out of someone based on my own selfish curiosity, and I shouldn’t have even done it that once. As much as I despise Welson for the unfairness in the way he’s treated me, I do care for him. I feel his pain, his guilt, and his worries, especially after that meeting.”

  “What happened?” Cleve asked.

  Rek unconsciously rubbed the scar on his cheek. “Welson blames himself for the war of Ovira. There was an incident at his doing that could be looked at as the reason peace could never be reached between Kyrro and Tenred. But remember, Welson came into his kingship with a shaky relationship already existing between Kyrro and Tenred due to some issues his father had with them.” Rek shook his head. “He takes far too much of the blame upon himself.”

  Cleve still hadn’t decided how much blame he would attribute to Welson Kimard. First he needed to hear of his parents.

  “With the only ironbark trees being in southern Kyrro, Tenred offered a tremendous amount of iron to trade for them,” Rek continued. “These trades went well until Welson Kimard’s father, Westin, traded boats to Tenred, and then two of the boats ended up sinking from what was theorized to be rotten wood, killing the crews aboard. Without proof, and with neither territory being unable to win a war against the other, Tenred had no choice but to forgive Kyrro. Only a few could say if it was really sincere or not, just as only a few knew of the incident between Kyrro and Tenred that happened years later…after Westin was killed and Welson took over as king.

  “Welson’s father was never interested in the small islands around Ovira, but Welson was, especially when Tegry—the King of Tenred—was sending out ship after ship to explore them. There were a few minor problems that ensued first, some near crashes and arguments, but nothing major. That is, until one of Welson’s ships arrived at an undiscovered island with Tegry’s ship already there.

  “Welson’s men had orders to kill only if they were attacked or if they believed a battle was likely to occur over the discovery of rich resources. And there was a battle on this island, with Welson’s men of Kyrro winning. Only…there was nothing on the island to show for it, and there was no proof that Tegry’s men had shown any aggression. Assassinations and poisoning attempts increased greatly after that incident.”