Bastial Frenzy (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 4)

by Narro, B. T.

  Welson looked even more disappointed than the man who’d tried to kill him. His hurry was gone, replaced by utter sadness. He gestured for Cleve to follow him.

  Reela walked beside Cleve as he entered the castle. The door was shut and latched behind them.

  “It's a pity that man must die.” Welson spoke with deep remorse. “We can’t allow anyone who attempts an assassination to live.” After a sigh, he turned to Reela. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Reela Worender.”

  “You as well.” They shook hands. “How do you know my name?”

  “I know you’re half Elf and one of the strongest psychics in the Academy, possibly in all of Ovira next to Rek and Vithos. I know you shared the same father with them. I also know you’re an ally. You’ve been investigated thoroughly.”

  “I see,” she said.

  Reela’s indifferent expression seemed to intrigue Welson, for he leaned in close and tilted his head.

  “You’ve already assumed this?” he asked.

  “I have.”

  “But even though you’re an ally, I must speak to Cleve alone. In the meantime, I believe there’s someone who wants to see you.”

  Reela smiled widely, already sensing his presence.

  Then Cleve recognized Rek’s voice. “Hello, Reela.” The Elf stepped between a line of guards.

  Reela practically jumped on her way over to hug him. When Cleve noticed Rek smiling at him, he only had time to nod and smile back before Welson whistled to him.

  “Let’s go. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

  As Cleve followed the King up the stairs, he looked back at Rek and Reela. They were concerned for him, their eyes wide and mouths flat.

  On the second floor, Welson brought Cleve down one of many hallways. He followed as the King turned and continued through the maze of corridors. Although most of the castle consisted of black ironbark wood, they soon were ascending a circular stone stairway.

  There was only one room after the twisting stairs ended, and two guards snapped to attention as the King passed between them. Cleve could hear someone coming up the stairs behind them. Shortly after he entered the room, the tall and pale psychic who he’d met the last time he was in the castle brushed by his shoulder, taking a spot beside their ruler.

  Welson sat with a long table between him and Cleve, a chair waiting on the opposite side. Welson gestured at it. “Sit.”

  Cleve did. Then he heard the door close behind him. He turned to find the two guards now inside, standing in front of his only exit.

  Cleve wondered if he’d be able to lie now that he’d trained with Rek. But I’ve never practiced that, he realized. It was the detection and resistance of psyche that Cleve had learned so well, not getting away with lying. He decided he’d better test it sooner rather than later.

  “What has Rek told you about me?” Welson asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Welson didn’t even need the psychic. He shook his head at Cleve and said, “Don’t lie to me. I don’t have the patience for it.”

  Cleve regretted not choosing something else to lie about, something easier to get away with. He still didn’t want to reveal what Rek had told him about his parents’ deaths, though, not until he knew whether the psychic could detect his lies. He thought of what else Rek had said.

  “He told me you blame yourself for this war,” Cleve said. “He told me about an incident—a battle over the discovery of an island. I don’t remember the details.”

  Welson began to nod, so Cleve stopped.

  “That was only two years after my coronation. I was seventeen when that battle happened. That’s your age, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “I made a lot of mistakes. I didn’t have my father’s guidance as I should have.” Welson went silent as he glared, waiting for Cleve to say something.

  But Cleve chose not to, not yet. He wasn’t ready to admit Rek had told him about Welson’s crazy belief that Cleve’s father was the one who killed Welson’s father. It was madness, and just the King hinting at it made Cleve angry.

  At Cleve’s reticence, Welson forced a sigh and continued. “Our relationship with Tenred was already deteriorating before that incident. I thought my father’s murder might’ve been Tegry Hiller’s doing, so I ceased all trading with them. For two years they tried to negotiate new trades, mostly our ironbark wood for their metal. But out of spite, I never agreed. Then when I found out they were sailing around Ovira and exploring the many islands nearby, I became interested in doing the same. I put warriors on the boats I sent out, equipped them with weapons, and told them they could kill men from Tenred if they believed a battle was likely to occur over valuable land or resources.”

  Welson shook his head. “I trusted their discretion too much. There was a battle when one of my ships and one of Tegry’s arrived at the same island. But there were no warriors on their ship. There was some royal blood, though—Tegry’s nephew was the captain. He was killed in combat. When I heard the news, I thought of it as a victory. It was payback for my father. But then the assassination attempts began, poison in my food, attackers in the night, that sort of thing.”

  The King stood and lifted his shirt to expose his side. Cleve saw a scar that looked to have come from a blade.

  “Tegry never claimed responsibility, but it was clearly his doing. I knew it was only a matter of time before we’d be at war, so I started my own assassination attempts. I sent my own spies. When the war finally began, Tegry and I had been preparing for over a decade. Now there are spies everywhere. I just wish I’d known he was going to get the Krepps involved. But it’s too late for regret, which brings me to why you’re here.”

  Welson stood and paced behind his chair. “When Rek joined the battle and I saw firsthand how many Krepps he assisted in killing, I knew then that I was wrong about him and you. But there are other worries I have besides your allegiance that need to be alleviated before I can accept your return. What else has Rek told you about me? Did he mention anything about your father?”

  Welson looked away from Cleve for a moment, his eyes locking onto the stone wall where a painting of his father stared back over folded arms.

  Cleve felt the foreign tingle of psyche. It was like a light scratch of fingernails across his thoughts. He tried to push it out and put up his wall, but this psyche was already on the surface of his mind, not deep within him. It was different from the way Rek pained him or twisted his emotions. This touch of psyche was so light it felt as if Cleve was trying to use his hand to grab motes in the air. Still, he tried to lie as he did his best to force it out.

  “He said nothing about you and my father.”

  The psychic clicked his tongue. “It’s not the truth,” the sickly pale man said, his voice like a creaking door.

  The King wasn’t surprised. “What did Rek tell you?” he asked, still looking at the painting. “Just be honest.”

  Knowing he couldn’t lie, Cleve realized the time had come. He drew a slow breath. “He told me everything he knows.”

  “He shouldn’t have done that.” Welson spoke as if apologizing for the behavior of a family member, reminding Cleve that Rek and Welson had grown up together under the same father. Councilman Kerr had even called them brothers.

  The King finally sat again. Glancing over Cleve’s shoulder at the guards, he said, “Please leave us alone.” He turned to the psychic next. “You as well.”

  When they were gone, Welson leaned over the table.

  “You must have secrets, Cleve. Aren’t there things you know or feel that would be harmful if let out? If not, you must at least agree that there are some secrets better kept hidden?”

  “Of course,” Cleve answered.

  “And do you have any regrets…any mistakes you’ve made in moments of foolishness or childishness?”

  “Everyone does.”

  “What happened with your parents was no mistake, but I do regret it, and it must be kept a secret. I’m sure you don’t need
me explaining why the public shouldn’t know.”

  Cleve couldn’t help but stand. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Because it would create panic to find out their leader murders people without trial.”

  “Sit.” Welson spoke firmly. “And quiet your voice.”

  Cleve’s body screamed to remain standing. But he fought against it and sat. It felt like he was holding his breath as he remained there, and that relief would come only when he stood and started to yell at the man who’d ordered his parents’ deaths.

  Welson continued. “No trial was needed. It was clear your father was the one who shot mine with a long-range arrow as my father stood on the balcony of this castle.”

  Cleve barely managed to get out the words without shouting. “That’s not true.”

  “It took eleven years of information gathering, Cleve. I was certain. Eleven years. You realize how long this was for a man of fifteen to wait for justice?”

  “Whatever you found led you to the wrong man. There’s no way—”

  “It was your father!” Welson slammed his fist on the table as he interrupted Cleve. “You will not speak back to me!”

  Welson reclined, shaking his head as he sighed. “It’s frustrating that no matter what I say, you refuse to believe the truth.” He leaned forward. “But it is the truth. Dex Polken murdered my father.”

  “Who’s the archer you sent after my father? Who killed him?”

  “There were three archers, all dead now. Your mother or father killed two of them, and the one who survived must’ve been involved in other matters, for he was found murdered himself later.”

  Cleve didn’t realize he was letting his skepticism come out as he stared at the King…until Welson rolled his eyes.

  “You must at least believe they’re all dead. The three archers were waiting for your father as he came out of the Fjallejon Pathway. But they were surprised by your mother, who must’ve followed Dex without him knowing. I believe both of them knew there was danger when I sent your father to Corin Forest. But he couldn’t ignore a demand from his king. Your mother probably tried to talk her way into going with him, but he wouldn’t allow it, so she followed him. Your parents managed to kill two of their attackers before being struck with an arrow.” Welson paused to study Cleve’s face. “What don’t you believe?”

  Everything. Cleve realized he no longer trusted Welson at all.

  The King stood. “No matter. I didn’t bring you here to convince you of what happened.” He started to pace once more. “So long as you don’t speak of this, I won’t put you back in prison. You’re too useful to be locked away while we’re at war.” He turned and looked through the tops of his eyes. “Yet, you’re forbidden to come into Kyrro City ever again. You must keep your distance from me. Am I clear?”

  Cleve nodded. “As long as I’m allowed to fight and stay in Kyrro, that’s what I care about. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

  “You should thank me for sending you to Goldram. You’ve come back and brought a horse and a Bastial steel weapon with you.”

  Cleve’s heart jumped. He clutched the hilt of his sword.

  “That’s right. I know all about its value.”

  I won’t let you take it. Cleve could feel his face exposing his desperation, but he could do nothing to suppress it.

  Welson smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly expression. It was the look that Cleve envisioned when he imagined trading his life for the King’s, for there was no chance he would make it out of the castle alive after killing him.

  “You can relax, Cleve,” Welson said. “I’ve heard you’re the most capable warrior in the Academy, among the best of all my warriors. I wouldn’t take away a weapon from such a fighter. But you’ll use your Bastial steel sword and your bow for Kyrro.”

  With that, the King walked to a locked chest. He knelt as he produced a key from his pocket. For a moment, the monarch simply stood holding Cleve’s black ironbark bow. He let its end rest on the ground, judging its height.

  “The bows we’ve been making aren’t nearly this large,” Welson commented. Cleve’s weapon was taller than the King. “Our archers have had too much trouble shooting them accurately.”

  Cleve stood to accept it. He investigated the weapon for scratches or other blemishes. To his surprise, he found none.

  “No one’s used it,” Welson reassured him.

  “Thank you.” Cleve started to feel his anger withering. He forced himself to hang on to it.

  “You’re going to use it to kill one of the giant Slugari mages that lead the Krepps. You and Rek will be leaving shortly.”

  Cleve tilted his head. “You expect just the two of us to kill one of their leaders? Surely, he must be heavily guarded.”

  “You’ll ride your horses to their camp. We learned its location while you were gone. It’s been scouted. There’s a mountainside you can use for cover. After you kill one of them, you should be able to escape on your horses.”

  Is he sending us because of our skill or because he doesn’t care if we die? Perhaps both. “You don’t need to send us off again,” Cleve said. “We wish to stay and fight. You just said you’re not worried about our loyalty anymore.”

  “You think I’m trying to get you both killed?” The King appeared to be insulted. Never had Cleve wanted to be a psychic before. But in that moment, he would’ve given a finger to know whether Welson was lying.

  The King continued. “I’m trying to win this war. We meant to go on the offensive earlier, but then the Krepps attacked. With that battle now over, we’re planning to assault Tenred. I’m sending nearly my entire army there while you and Rek exterminate one of the Kreppen leaders…both of them, if you can.”

  “Why send Rek with me if your intention isn’t to get rid of us? I don’t need his psyche to shoot an arrow and escape on my horse.”

  “I’m doing it for your protection. His psyche may save your life. You never know what could happen. Anyway, he knows where you’re going better than you do.”

  Welson was waiting for Cleve to reply, but he didn’t know what to say.

  “So you’ll do this for me willingly? I don’t need to bring the psychic back in here to read your emotions?” Welson had an irritating smile.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Good. Rek has already been informed and should be waiting outside the castle by the time you get there. Now is there anything I need to know about Greenedge before you go? What’s happening on that continent? What did you learn from King Danvell Takary?”

  There’s a larger scale war than ours, and after it’s over, the Takary Army’s coming here to take Kyrro from your grasp.

  “There’s a war. It should last longer than ours by some years.”

  “That’s it? Nothing to add?”

  Cleve felt an itch on his forehead. He looked away as he scratched it. “That’s all.”

  His heart started thumping when Welson approached with a scowl. “Are you sure?”

  Could he already know about the Takary Army? Cleve didn’t see how that was possible. “Yes. That’s all.”

  For a moment Welson simply stared.

  “You’re not a good liar, Cleve. You’re keeping something from me. What do I need to know about this war in Greenedge?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Need I remind you that we’re working toward the same goal?” Welson said. “We both want Kyrro to be safe. Don’t let what happened between our families cloud logic. Kyrro and Tenred are at war because of incidents that couldn’t be forgiven. There’s no reason you and I need to be enemies as well.”

  Cleve was furious. How could Welson expect him to ignore what had happened to his parents?

  Cleve gritted his teeth. “There’s nothing else you need to know.”

  The King wasn’t afraid, stepping forward instead of shrinking back. “If I find out you’re keeping something important from me, you’ll spend the rest of your life in a prison cell. Now go.” Welson pointed at the door. “And if you speak about wha
t happened with your parents to anyone, you’ll be tried as an enemy for defaming your king with lies. Your father killed mine, Cleve Polken. I took revenge and I do regret it, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

  Cleve was already at the door by then. He turned for what he hoped would be the last time he ever had to set eyes on Welson Kimard. Then he slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter 2:

  CLEVE

  Cleve was escorted outside the castle, where Rek and their horses awaited.

  “Cleve, good.” Rek spoke with haste. “Let’s go.”

  “Where’s Reela?”

  “Inside the castle using the chamber pot. We need to leave before she comes back. I’ll explain later.”

  “No, wait. I don’t understand. Does she know we’re leaving?”

  “No, and if she did, she would talk her way into coming with us. I want to leave before that happens. There’s no reason to put her life in danger.”

  Rek had one bag on his back and another in hand. With his other hand, he carried a birdcage containing a messenger pigeon. He handed Cleve one of the bags that had food and other supplies in it.

  Cleve shook his head as he took it. “We should at least say goodbye.”

  He couldn’t imagine how angry he would be if Reela and Rek left him without a word.

  “I’m telling you, she’ll come with us if we wait. Let’s go.”

  “We’ll just tell her she can’t.”

  Anger crossed Rek’s face. With the scar the Elves had given him, he looked menacing in that moment. “Cleve, the moment Reela finds out what we’re doing, I won’t be able to convince her not to come. And you certainly won’t either. Haven’t you seen her when she’s demanding? She’ll get her way if we wait a moment longer. Now let’s go!”

  Cleve immediately realized Rek was right. If Rek wouldn’t be able to stop Reela from sharing his saddle, Cleve definitely wouldn’t be able to either. He couldn’t bring himself to physically force Reela off his horse, and that’s what it would take after she found out what they were doing.