Bastial Energy (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 1)

by Narro, B. T.

But then Reela frowned, and all his excitement slowly dribbled out of him. “That’s it,” she said gravely. “That’s the basics of psyche. Associations, manipulation, and then years of training.”

  “So, you have an association for every emotion?”

  “Yes, and strong thoughts and urges, like needing to use the bathroom, hunger, even when someone considers an object to be extremely important.”

  Steffen suddenly felt discouraged. He was always eager to learn something new, but that eagerness was now completely gone for psyche. “I don’t see how you can keep track of them all.”

  Reela had a sly grin. “The associations are the easy part. Manipulating them is infinitely harder. You felt how difficult it was just to hold on to one. Can you imagine trying to change its shape into something else?”

  Steffen shook his head. His stomach was still tight from being clenched too hard.

  “It’s physically exhausting as well as mentally, just like every other class that manipulates Bastial Energy. Psychics also have to learn how to sense emotions in others. That’s a whole new challenge.”

  Steffen was done. He knew then that he couldn’t be a psychic. It wasn’t that he was ever serious about being one, more that he was always curious if he could. “Well, thank you for explaining it.”

  Reela squeezed his hand with a warm smile. Her eyes fell to his bruise again, and she pointed to it. “Will you and the other chemists be training with the warriors from now on?”

  “No, thankfully. Some days are field training, like yesterday. Other days are for learning potions that’ll be used in battle and for medical purposes. Today, we’ll be back in the classroom.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. First-year psychics have no role in battle. They assume we aren’t strong enough for any spells that would help. They’re wrong, though, and I intend to prove that. I’m not going to sit on my hands while everyone else fights.” Reela dabbed her butter with two fingers, fiercely rubbing it on the bread and ripping off a chunk with her teeth.

  “Do I even want to ask what you intend to do?”

  Reela showed him a sneaky smile. “I don’t think so.”

  Alex suddenly flipped his legs over the bench to sit beside Reela. “I was just leaving when I noticed you two. I saw that Cleve made Group One, but he hasn’t been on the field with me and the others. Is he ill?”

  “Hi, Alex,” Steffen replied, relieved he must have not heard his embarrassing grunting earlier. “I don’t know if he’s ill, but he’s not here. Reela and Effie told me that someone from the King’s Council came to pick him up, and he hasn’t been back since.”

  Alex leaned toward Reela. “What?” His voice was just louder than a whisper. “Reela, when was this?”

  “Two days ago, when the evaluations were posted.” Her voice was weak, as if the words were painful. “It was Javy Rayvender and three guards. It must’ve been because of the bow.”

  “Why would the King wait?” From the way Alex stared at the table, he looked to be asking the question to himself. “I could be next.” His eyes went up to Reela. “He hasn’t returned…not once?”

  “No. Any idea what they would be doing with him?” Reela asked, a glimmer of hope in her bright green eyes.

  Alex scrunched his mouth for a breath. He opened his palms to gesture. “If it were any other time, they’d put him in the dungeons under the castle. But a man who’s skilled with the bow is useful while we have enemies, and our King isn’t as proud as his father was. He wouldn’t use spite at his law being broken to alter his judgment.”

  Alex drummed his fingers on the table in silence as he thought. “The best case I can think of is that Cleve was asked to do something, to use his skill to shoot something or someone. Worse case, he would be in the dungeons. But given that they took his bow and waited nearly a week before detaining him, the former seems to be more logical. I see no reason why they would wait just to put him in a cell. They probably made him do something with the bow.”

  Reela threw her arms around Alex and squeezed. “Thank you. That’s good news. See, Steffen, this is how you cheer someone up.”

  Alex’s smile showed off a mouth full of white teeth. “If I knew being positive was all it took to get a girl’s hands on me, I would try that more often.” But then his mouth straightened as he noticed the grease on his sleeve from her buttered fingers. “Maybe next time I’ll make sure her hands are clean first.”

  Someone let out a whistle that pierced through the room, stopping all chatter at once. Steffen turned and found the whistler at the door, now cupping his hands around his mouth to shout, “There’s an Elf and a Krepp being taken through the school by two guards!”

  A Krepp and an Elf? Did I really hear that right?

  “Come on!” Alex exclaimed, jumping from his seat.

  “What about our plates?” Steffen said.

  “Leave them,” Reela answered. “Don’t you want to see a Krepp?”

  “Yes, and an Elf for that matter,” Steffen agreed.

  Reela turned as if to say something but closed her mouth and turned back before any words came out.

  Chapter 47: Common Tongue

  STEFFEN

  Steffen followed the swarm of people outside. Hundreds were rushing south, and he ran along with them. The stomping of everyone’s feet was so strong, he felt as if the ground was shaking. He saw they were all headed toward hundreds more, who already were gathered along the south side of Warrior’s Field where the Krepp and Elf must be.

  Steffen was still beside Reela when they arrived, but Alex had been lost in the crowd. He and Reela joined hands and walked along the backside of the mass, looking for an opening.

  “Here,” Reela said, twisting sideways to push through toward the front. People leaned away from Reela as she passed them, thanks to some psychic spell, Steffen figured.

  He gasped when they made it to the front and he saw them. Bastial stars, it’s true! A Krepp and an Elf!

  The Krepp was just like he’d seen in drawings. His reptilian skin was gray, like the dark mist Steffen had seen after the sun set in Raywhite Forest. But his eyes were so very yellow, two goldbellows with black pupils. There was a small, dark tuft of hair on his head but nowhere else. His legs were covered by worn leather pants. His chest was bare. There were sharp claws at the ends of his humanlike fingers and toes. Five claws, Steffen counted, on each hand and foot. His limbs had a strong bend at the elbows and knees, and his whole body was covered in bulging muscles.

  He seems about my height, Steffen thought. His strength matches what has been written, but his height is far shorter. That’s good. The thought of an army of creatures both taller and stronger than Cleve had been worrisome.

  “Make room!” a guard shouted. “They’re to be brought to the King unharmed.”

  The Elf whispered something to the Krepp that Steffen couldn’t overhear. The Elf was too similar to a Human to cause the same marvel. His skin was light, although it was covered in dirt. The hair close to his scalp had a glow to it, the same shine often found in Reela’s hair as the sun hit it. But the ends of the Elf’s hair, which came down to his shoulders, were dark with dirt and sweat. His eyes were long, tired but fierce, and deeply brown. The pointed tips of his ears poked out from his hair.

  To everyone’s shock, the Krepp spoke to them in common tongue. “We’re on your side.” His voice was low and throaty. It was followed by gasps and confused murmurs from the crowd, and Steffen felt a flurry of excitement.

  Suddenly, a girl somewhere among the hundreds of watchers gave out a short squeal. “A rat bit me!” She was almost in tears.

  A man followed with a loud curse. Then, “It bit me also!”

  Steffen’s excitement turned to dread. “It’s Leonard! Reela, can you connect with him?”

  There was another scream, and with it the crowd grew restless.

  “I can’t unless I can see him.” Reela’s tone was heavy with worry. “Too many minds clustered together.”

  Curs
es and screams were spreading. People began shoving. Someone fell into Steffen, pushing him hard into Reela. The Krepp was yelling something now, but no longer in common tongue. Steffen felt panic taking control. He started looking for a way out of the crowd.

  Then a sudden calm slowed Steffen’s breathing. He was no longer panicked, and the chaos in the crowd had died as well. The transition seemed oddly quick, but Steffen was so relaxed he didn’t even care to wonder about it.

  He helped the young lady up who had fallen into him. Nearly all was quiet. A few people were asking each other if they were hurt. Steffen noticed the Elf was facing them. He had a palm extended. From the midst of the crowd, Leonard appeared, his fat body wobbling along toward the Elf.

  The Elf knelt down to pick up Leonard, muttering something in another language. Steffen would have guessed it was Elvish, but he knew a little of the language and the words were far too harsh to be it. Could that be Kreppen? he wondered with disbelief.

  “You have large rats,” the Krepp said to the crowd. “Do you wish for us to kill it?” The Elf had his hands cupped around Leonard.

  Steffen stepped forward. “No, the rat is mine. Sorry.”

  The Krepp seemed puzzled. Steffen figured it was because he didn’t understand the idea of a pet. But instead, the Krepp surprised him by saying, “Why are you sorry?”

  “Sorry for the trouble,” Steffen answered, somewhat confused himself now.

  “There’s no trouble,” the Krepp replied with what seemed to be a disgusted tone. He said something to the Elf in his language, and the Elf offered Leonard back to Steffen with a smile.

  The giant rat was still, something Steffen had never seen unless Leonard was sleeping. Leonard looked comfortable, resting his head in front of his paws. He remained that way even when Steffen cupped his hands under him to lift him away.

  His heart raced when he turned and suddenly noticed Reela beside him. She was reaching out a hand tentatively toward the Elf’s. Reela what are you doing?

  “Rek?” she asked in a whisper. “Is that you?”

  What is this? Steffen almost grabbed her to move her away but decided against it. He trusted Reela’s judgment, as strange as it seemed.

  The Elf was first concerned, taking back his hand. But a breath later his face loosened. He accepted Reela’s hand, giving her a curious look. Then they squeezed each other’s hands in silence. Reela looked to be on the verge of tears but with a crooked smile.

  The Elf said something to the Krepp, who appeared to translate for him. “He wonders who you are,” the Krepp said to Reela. “He thinks he knows you.”

  “He doesn’t know me.” She was whispering still. “But I think I know him.”

  As the Krepp translated for the Elf, a guard startled them with an announcement. “That’s enough, everyone. It’s time we move.” He waved the Krepp forward. “Follow us. The King is expecting you both.”

  Reela and the Elf dropped each other’s hands, but their gazes held until the Krepp put his palm on the Elf’s back to escort him forward. The Elf finally straightened his head, walking a few steps before giving one last look back at Reela.

  What just happened? Steffen wondered. He waited for some sort of sign from Reela to reveal what he’d just witnessed. But she didn’t move. Her hand was still out, her face pale and hard, like she’d just seen someone rise from the dead. She didn’t even seem to notice everyone in the crowd murmuring and staring at her. Her eyes were locked on the Elf.

  “Reela? How could you know him?” Steffen asked hesitantly.

  “I…” She gave no answer, finally letting her hand drop.

  Alex burst from the crowd. “What was that, Reela? What did you say to him?”

  “I have to go speak to my mother,” Reela muttered. Then she broke into a run.

  A long “uhhhh,” leaked out of Alex. He gave a confused glance to Steffen.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Steffen answered. Then suddenly, he remembered Leonard in his hands. He almost dropped the rat after the realization that the Elf’s powerful spell should be over by now. But Leonard was still. He had been this whole time. Steffen lifted his pet to his eyes. The rat sniffed…and then nothing else. He didn’t bite, or growl, or look for something to chew on. “What did the Elf do to you?” Steffen asked.

  “What did he do to all of us?” Alex added. “Did you feel that blissful relaxation in the middle of everyone nearly killing each other?”

  “Yes, what was that?”

  And what in Bastial hell happened with Reela?

  Chapter 48: Traitors

  ZETI

  Jumping over the fence was the worst part about returning to camp. After Zeti had walked a hundred and fifty miles in a week, with little sleep and less conversation, the wooden wall that bordered the Krepps’ territory looked daunting. It was built without doors. The only way through it was over it, which normally wasn’t difficult. A simple run and hop would get Zeti’s belly on it so she could swing her legs over, but even a simple task such as that was monumental in her exhausted state.

  The fence actually was designed more so to slow anyone leaving than to prevent intruders from coming in. It gave the post guards a chance to chase after any Krepp who wasn’t permitted to go. Ever since the move to this new encampment, their huge Slugari leaders had been unreasonably strict about Krepps leaving the camp. She heard a Krepp had an arrow shot into his leg when he tried to climb over when all he’d done was forget to notify the post guard first.

  During her team’s searches for the underground Slugari colony, most of her physical fatigue came from the poor company she had to endure, not from the miles they walked. It’s not that they didn’t speak, for they did—too much. It’s that they had nothing to say worth hearing. When they spoke, it was either to boast or belittle each other. When they asked a question of her, it was always one of three. The men without a seshar would try to convince her that they should be hers. The men with a seshar would ask why she hadn’t chosen one. And all would ask what it felt like to know her brother was a traitor.

  Zeti found herself considering taking one of them as a seshar just so she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Their nonstop annoyance made her welcome the nights. While the bumps on the ground sometimes kept her awake, at least they were silent in doing so.

  Paramar, the chief of the search group, was the only one she could tolerate. Since their duel, she’d taken a small liking to him. He didn’t have much to say, but he was always willing to help. When they needed to hunt for food, he would always go. When they decided to make a fire, he would gather tinder and start it. And he was always the one to carry the chamoline—what could be the most important flower to the Krepps—acting as the replacement for Vithos’ ability to sense the Slugari, which they lost when he was labeled a traitor.

  The chamoline flower had a friendly green color, five long petals, and a small tongue coming from the middle where the petals met. Paramar had told her of its power: It mimics the colors of some plants when there’s a high enough concentration of them around.

  “It’s very susceptible to rujins, turning red if enough of them are nearby,” Paramar said when he showed it to her.

  “Why does that matter?” she asked, not knowing what use the rujin flowers had.

  “You don’t know about the Dajrik, do you? It’s something Doe and Haemon taught us.”

  She’d never heard the word before. “Dajrik? No.”

  “A giant with skin twice as tough as mine.” Paramar showed her his arm and clawed at it to demonstrate his point. “Dajriks might as well be made from rock, and sure look to be from how Doe and Haemon have described them. The Slugari have one. It wears an amulet with pure rujin fused as a gem. It needs to. Otherwise, it has terrible nightmares for whatever reason. Doe and Haemon think it’s because of its age. The older Dajriks get, the worse their nightmares, and this one is thousands of years old.”

  It sounded like a fanciful tale to Zeti. But the way Paramar was describing i
t made it clear these were facts. It was hard for her to believe, especially because she’d never seen a giant or any creature with skin tougher than a Krepp’s.

  “Why is it with the Slugari? I don’t understand.”

  “The Slugari have the ability to create the gem it needs from rujins and of course the rujins to make it. The rujin gem doesn’t last more than a hundred years. Its concentration fades. The Dajrik doesn’t have the ability to make it himself. He needs the Slugari, so he protects them.”

  Paramar twisted the chamoline carefully between his claws. “Now that we have this, we can find them just by standing over their hidden colony. It’ll become red because of the rujin gem the Dajrik wears.” He grinned in a way that would’ve sent Zeti’s heart jumping if she had any fear he might want to harm her. “The cowards can’t hide for long, even if the Humans don’t give them up.”

  “Why don’t the Slugari stop making it if they know we can use the chamoline to track them?”

  “They might not know. Anyway, Doe and Haemon say the Slugari would never let the Dajrik suffer through the nightmares. The Dajrik saved them from the destruction of their race—from two other Dajriks hundreds of years ago. It’s a long story, and I don’t remember all the details even if I wished to tell it. Just make sure you don’t harm the chamoline.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” So much difference one plant can make. She went to her toes to get a good look at it, holding Paramar’s arm in place. His skin was so tough it seemed as if it would chip rather than scrape.

  “Once torn from the ground, these chamolines only last a week before they can no longer change color. We have many seeds planted, but they don’t grow well. There are only a few old enough to work right now.” He spat.

  “We’ve just recently discovered the chamoline, I figure?” It was an answer as to why they chose now to send off Vithos—because he was no longer needed.

  “Yes, our scouts did well.”

  Maybe he wasn’t a traitor after all. But why did Zoke get dragged into this?