Bastial Frenzy (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 4)

by Narro, B. T.

  “Do not fear battle,” Terren commanded. “There’s something we have more of than they do. Have you asked yourselves what your profession is? You’re warriors, mages, psychics, and chemists of the Kyrro Army. You’ve been trained for war”—he let out a lighthearted chuckle as he continued—“and not much else.”

  Effie felt a laugh escape, and she heard many others chuckling as well.

  “But the Krepps,” Terren continued, “the most abundant enemy of Kyrro—they don’t train for war or even for battle. All of the Krepps coming here know how to use a sword or a bow, and that’s it. The most experience they’ve had was when half of them came here and lost. Those who took down Tenred’s wall have seen the inability Krepps have to fight with Tegry’s army. We’ll win this battle and this war. I’ll be gone for a few days to devise our battle strategy with King Kerr. Keep training. Anytime you start to worry, think about Tegry stabbing Welson while his arms were held by two men. Think about if that were you, what you would want to do to the enemies responsible.”

  A tear fell from Effie’s eye then, running down her cheek.

  “You have that chance. Remember the traitors who killed our men and women. Remember the seed of anger deep within. I’m eager for revenge. I’m eager for this last battle. For after we’re victorious, no enemy will dare hurt our king or any of our people again.”

  Effie joined everyone else in standing and applauding. Dajriks, Krepps, traitorous Humans with heinous potions and plots, it didn’t matter. Nothing was stronger than the Kyrro Army.

  She walked over and squeezed Alex. He held her and kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said.

  “I know. They will pay.”

  She let go of him only because she was in a hurry. “I need to ask Terren about Steffen before he leaves.”

  “I understand. Go.”

  Effie caught up to the headmaster as he was exiting the stadium with a group of instructors. “Terren, where’s Steffen?” she called.

  “I might be back by tomorrow,” Terren said over his shoulder to answer an instructor’s question. Then he turned to Effie. “He’s been recovering within the Fjallejon Mountains. He was beaten badly.”

  “But he’ll be alright?”

  “I believe so. I’m sorry, Effie. I can’t stay and talk.”

  She nodded and thanked him. Then she stood there, tilting back and forth to feel the crunch of sand beneath her shoes, forgetting what she was supposed to do now.

  Something brushed against the back of her leg. She turned to find Leo. I didn’t help him off the bench!

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you get down alright?”

  “Help from Human. But don’t understand why happy?”

  “We aren’t happy, just enthusiastic,” Effie said, showing him a clenched fist. “We’re eager to fight our enemies.”

  The Slugari hummed and brushed his claw up her leg. “I understand.” He scratched his claws across the sand. “Zoho.”

  “What does zoho mean?”

  “I want and Humans want. Revenge.”

  Chapter 32:

  CLEVE

  Cleve had come to Redfield with Zoke and Alex. Though Alex left Cleve alone with the Krepp when he saw Effie and her Slugari enter. Most of Cleve’s conversations with Zoke had been between duels after battle training was over. The Krepp challenged him the first day Cleve was back, with Alex and other warriors rotating in to combat the winner, which was always Cleve.

  Dueling with Terren had been one of Cleve’s favorite activities over the years. Only recently had they become evenly matched, making their battles even better. Zoke fought differently than Terren, though. He always seemed to be holding back, stopping himself at times as if worried about injuring Cleve, like how Terren used to be when Cleve was younger.

  They dueled every day, Cleve losing so few times he could count them on one hand. Eventually, Cleve asked why Zoke seemed to hesitate.

  “When Krepps fights, we spit, bite, kick dirt, throw grass, and use our head. It’s difficult to ignore my…” Zoke stopped as he thought of the right word. “Feelings, natural feelings.”

  “Instincts?” Cleve asked.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s what we do without thinking.”

  “Then yes, instincts. Usually I can still win, but not against you.”

  “There are no rules in the duels between Krepps?” Cleve asked.

  “Krepps don’t duel like Humans. We fight, sometimes for fun, other times because we’re angry. When we fight for fun, there are rules, but never about what isn’t allowed. The rules only exist to acknowledge a winner so we don’t kill each other. One Krepp trying to tell another not to bite or spit would be like another Human suggesting something stupid that made no sense—like saying neither fighter can kick.”

  “Then fight me as you would a Krepp. Spit, I don’t care. Just stop when either of us scores a point.” Cleve was confident he could win just as often, even when Zoke showed a wicked smile.

  “Ready?” Zoke asked.

  “Go.”

  The amount of saliva the Krepp produced came as a shock. It wasn’t that he spat often, for Zoke only let his frothy liquid soar about once a match, it was that Cleve never knew when it was coming. If he were to spit on an opponent, it would take him time to gather saliva, the motions of his mouth making his intentions clear. But globs of it would shoot out of the Krepp’s mouth instantly.

  Zoke also used the claws on his feet to rip grass and fling it at Cleve’s face. He was surprisingly accurate with both methods of distraction, causing Cleve to lose three matches in a row. He could feel himself becoming irritated.

  “None of the Krepps I killed were spitting or kicking grass at me,” Cleve commented. “Is this really what Krepps will do?”

  “The smart ones.”

  The uneven grass caught Cleve’s eye. In just three fights, there were splotches of dirt showing where Zoke had ripped it up. “You’re destroying the field.” Cleve pointed.

  “Then let’s fight on the dirt path to the south,” Zoke said.

  “We’re not allowed to fight anywhere but on Warrior’s Field,” Cleve reminded him.

  “We’re not allowed to spit or kick grass either, and you said you didn’t mind.”

  Cleve grumbled. “It’s not that I would mind fighting you outside Warrior’s Field. But the moment any warrior instructor sees us, they’ll force us to stop and scold us.”

  “So?” Zoke said. “We can fight until then. Or would you rather I go back to how I was fighting before?”

  Cleve shook his head. “If some Krepps are going to fight like you, then I want to train myself.” An idea came. “Follow me.”

  “Where?” Zoke scowled.

  “I’m sure Terren will allow us to fight behind his house in the corner of campus, so long as we don’t tell anyone. There’s dirt instead of grass, and we’ll be out of sight.”

  Zoke smiled at Cleve as they walked. “I’m surprised.”

  “About what?”

  “I thought you were making excuses before. Do you think you can beat me with no rules, Human?”

  Cleve trumped Zoke’s smile with his own confident grin. “I’m sure of it. Just give me one more match to adapt.”

  They fought near Terren’s house each day after that. Cleve quickly was able to figure out when Zoke was likely to spit or kick dirt, using sudden aggression to take advantage of the effort the Krepp put into each act. The only times Cleve lost were when he tried spitting or kicking dirt himself. It felt unnatural. Even worse, he couldn’t surprise Zoke. His body announced his sneaky tactics well before he could execute them.

  Once, he did manage to strike Zoke with his own saliva. It hit Zoke in the chest, but the amount of his spit was a fifth of what Zoke often hurled out of his mouth. The Krepp had to stop the match from laughter.

  “A baby Krepp can spit better than you!” Zoke shouted.

  Cleve always had
to shower when they were done fighting. It was the only way to cleanse his face of the feeling of Zoke’s hot spit. When Alex found out about their duels, he joined them, commenting that some Krepps had spit on him during the battle at the Academy.

  “They kicked dirt also,” Alex said. “I’m surprised none did that to you.”

  “Probably because I killed them too fast,” Cleve said, immediately realizing it sounded like he was teasing Alex. “I meant because of their surprise over my horse and Bastial steel weapon.”

  “Where is your horse?” Alex asked.

  “With the King.”

  All of that was before Terren’s announcement. After it, Zoke was in disbelief. “Won’t Tegry’s people kill him for what he did?” the Krepp asked as he and Cleve walked to Warrior’s Field.

  “Many of them probably see it as a victory,” Cleve guessed.

  Zoke was even more incredulous. “No Krepp could ever side with Tegry after this. To do so is to be just as dishonorable. If the Krepps found out, they would kill Tegry even before attacking us.”

  “Then they’re probably not going to find out,” Cleve commented. “Why is honor so important? I thought the Krepps cared more about Slugari meat than anything else.”

  “They care about Slugari meat. Not me.”

  “But you do care about honor just as much as they do.”

  “Because honor is everything. When Krepps are honorable, their family is proud. Their friends are proud. They are proud. But when Krepps are dishonorable, they cause shame to everyone, even other Krepps that barely know them. Honor is what makes a Krepp a Krepp.”

  “That sounds like morality more than honor,” Cleve said.

  “Morality?” Zoke asked.

  “Right and wrong,” Cleve added.

  “I’ve never heard this word. How is it different than honor?”

  The question made Cleve pause to think. At first he was going to say that honor had nothing to do with right or wrong, but that wasn’t true. It did.

  “Don’t you have a word for morality in Kreppen?” Cleve asked, still trying to figure out how to answer Zoke.

  “There is a word for right and wrong. It’s farri.”

  “So what’s the word for honor?”

  “I said it. Farri.”

  For a moment, Cleve was confused. Then he realized what Zoke was saying. “Honor and morality must be the same thing to Krepps. But they aren’t to Humans.”

  “Then what’s the difference?”

  Cleve tried to think of something honorable that had nothing to do with morality. Duels came to mind.

  “Dishonor can be like shame,” Cleve said, knowing Zoke was familiar with the word. “There are acts that cause dishonor, like losing a fight, groveling for forgiveness, and begging for money, but none of these are wrong. They just tend to make us feel shame.”

  “They are wrong,” Zoke argued. “Begging, losing a fight…these are the acts I was talking about. They cause great shame to friends and family of the Krepp responsible, so they’re wrong.”

  “But shame is different from wrong,” Cleve tried, beginning to lose hope. “It’s wrong to kill another Krepp, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, if they’re innocent. But it’s the same kind of wrong as groveling. They aren’t different, like you say they are. Killing is just far worse than groveling.”

  “They are different to Humans, though,” Cleve said. “Some people don’t care about honor at all, yet they believe heavily in morals. Then there are others, usually proud warriors, who care more about honor.”

  Zoke’s mouth was twisted. “I’m confused how you say they can be different when they aren’t.”

  Cleve sighed, unsure what to say.

  “This must have to do with why you Humans apologize for everything,” Zoke said. “You don’t realize how wrong it is.”

  Cleve realized that Zoke’s use of “wrong” didn’t translate correctly. But he didn’t mention it. Cleve wouldn’t be able to undo Zoke’s beliefs, so he felt no reason to keep trying.

  Alex was already at Warrior’s Field when Cleve got there. He was sitting hunched over one knee, the other bent against the grass. He seemed to be focused on his thoughts as he stared just past his lap.

  Alex’s brother was with the King. Cleve’s stomach twisted, and his legs stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” Zoke asked.

  “Alex found out during the announcement that his brother was killed,” Cleve said. “It didn’t occur to me until now.”

  Cleve and Zoke approached Alex together. The dark-haired warrior stood when he saw them.

  “I’m sorry about Hem,” Cleve said.

  “He was a great warrior and leader,” Zoke added. “Very honorable.”

  “At first I was furious. But that stopped when it came to me that he was gone.” His gaze was stuck to the grass. “It’s hard to believe.”

  “I know how it feels.” Cleve embraced Alex.

  “The news is going to kill my mother.” Alex’s arms meekly came up around Cleve. “I don’t believe I have the energy to train today.”

  Sneary and the rest of the warriors were there by then. “Form a half-circle,” Sneary said, pointing in front of him.

  Cleve and the others shuffled into place.

  “No more battle training today,” Sneary said. “Use the time to reflect on what you heard in Redfield. This battle means something to all of us. Tomorrow I want you to tell me what it means to you, and don’t come back here telling me revenge. That’s just a form of rage, channeled and dangerous. And just like rage, it’s more likely to get you killed than do any good. It has no place on the battlefield. Let it ready you for the fight. Let it fuel your eagerness to kill. But when the Krepps and Tegry’s army come to Kyrro, don’t let revenge be the reason to swing your sword or shoot your arrow. It’s not good enough. I’ll hear your answers in the morning. Dismissed.”

  While Cleve was leaving with Alex and Zoke, Sneary called to them. “You three, come over here.” He waited until they were close. “Stop ignoring the dueling rules and quit fighting outside Warrior’s Field.”

  “How’d you know?” Cleve asked.

  “Terren told me about it the first day you talked with him.” For a moment, Cleve felt betrayed. But Sneary spoke again before Cleve could say anything. “He just wanted to inform me it was happening. It’s better that you learn how to fight against what Krepps will really do, anyway.”

  “Then why stop us now?” Alex asked.

  “Safety. I can’t have anyone getting injured if I can avoid it. Too much of a risk with battle approaching.” Sneary paused to look hard into Cleve’s eyes. “Am I going to have to monitor the three of you, or do you understand?”

  “We understand,” Cleve answered for them.

  “Good.” Sneary left, walking north to the faculty housing.

  The three of them went the opposite way, toward their homes. Cleve asked if Alex wanted to come with him for some company.

  “Thanks, but I’d like to be alone for now.”

  The image of Alex drinking by himself came to Cleve’s mind. He decided not to mention that alcohol would be a bad idea. Alex was an adult. Cleve didn’t feel right advising him of anything.

  But when Effie comes home, I’ll suggest she visit him.

  After the three of them split, Cleve entered his room and put away his wooden training sword, then started to reach for the Bastial steel sword on his other hip. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving it anywhere, even in his own home. Training while it was attached to his belt was an inconvenience, but the weapon was too light to be more than that.

  Sometimes warriors would come up to him and claim they’d heard about it from someone in Cleve’s group. They wanted to see the weapon for themselves. All would ask to hold it. Cleve allowed them to feel it in their grasp for a few swings. It was all he could manage before nervousness made his hands want to grab it back from them.

  A voice from behind startled Cleve. “You’re not going to say a
nything?”

  “Bastial hell,” Cleve said, turning to find Steffen slowly sitting up in his bed.

  Steffen put down his book. “Oh, I thought you knew I was here.” He gingerly got to his feet. One eye was swollen and black. There were bruises on both cheeks as well as small cuts. “Did you hear about Welson yet?” Steffen came into Cleve’s room, standing in the doorway.

  “Terren just announced it. Are you hurt?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Steffen’s voice had an unfamiliar toughness to it. “Do people blame me for not saving the King?” Suddenly his vulnerability was back. His mouth was slightly agape, his eyes longing for Cleve’s answer.

  “When I heard the news, I didn’t even think of you being able to do something. I’m sure no one did.”

  Steffen’s head began to move, not quite enough to be a nod, but close. “Tegry killed him right in front of me, stabbed him in the…” His voice broke, and he swallowed. “Head.” Then Steffen began to cry. “I’m sorry.”

  Cleve didn’t understand the apology, quickly embracing Steffen with a hug. “Why are you sorry?”

  “For crying.” He let his head rest against Cleve’s shoulder.

  “There’s no shame in crying.”

  Steffen squeezed Cleve surprisingly tight, his weeping becoming louder. “Everyone died, even Alex’s brother. Does he know?”

  “He knows.”

  For a few breaths, Steffen continued to cry and hold onto Cleve. He tried to think of what he could say, soon realizing this wasn’t a time for wisdom. Steffen just needed to feel comfort, safety. Cleve stepped away and grasped his shoulders.

  “There will be an end to all of this,” Cleve told him. “We’re going to win this war.”

  Steffen nodded and took a deep breath, wiping away the remnants of his tears.

  Chapter 33:

  ZOKE

  The news of the Krepps coming made Zoke feel like a rat had taken his stomach as its new home. Seven days passed since the announcement. In that time, the rat had become more skittish, never at rest. He knew this feeling was from fear and anxiety, but knowing didn’t help.