by B. T. Narro
As Basen read further, he came across nothing else about Ulric or Yeso.
“No, don’t stop there,” he said as if the author could hear him.
The next pages transitioned into the beginning of the most recent war in Greenedge, during which Fatholl took complete control. Basen hurried through each page in search of more information, but whatever Ulric and Yeso were doing during this time, it apparently wasn’t worthy enough for the author to mention.
Basen had to stop himself a number of times as he read what Fatholl had done, shock forcing him to make sure he’d read the words correctly. By the time he got to the end, he was beginning to think Fatholl was the wrong Elf to try to manipulate. Basen had never heard of anyone like him—the sacrifices he’d made, the sacrifices he’d forced other people to make. He’d taken the weight of the world on his shoulders and used it to justify the deaths of countless people.
Basen had every reason to be afraid. Fatholl would use him and discard him without care.
Basen came to the end of the book slightly disappointed in how little had been written about Ulric and Yeso, but he believed he’d learned just enough about the two of them and Fatholl to conclude he was right in his original guess. Fatholl and Yeso didn’t work together in Greenedge because they didn’t agree on how to use their power. Yeso clearly agrees with Ulric’s choice of war, while Fatholl never has.
Basen closed the book and thought for a while.
Eventually he whispered, “Yes, exactly. Yes! That’s it.”
He stood and made a fist in victory. His plan was set. Now it was just a matter of—god’s mercy, what time is it? People were migrating toward the dining hall, but it couldn’t be lunch hours already, could it? He leaned over the stone barrier to attempt to read the clock above him, but he couldn’t get a good look without risking falling out. He grabbed the book and rushed down the stairs. Of course I’m in the one place on campus where I can’t see the time.
He came all the way down and looked up, then cursed. It had been two hours! He muttered curses all the way back to Jack’s office, then inwardly raged when the door was closed and locked. He knocked, but nobody answered.
He was thankful for his stamina, because it was a long run to the dining hall. Jack was difficult to find, as he did not sit with other instructors this day, but Basen finally located him in a corner, sitting at the end of one of the long tables. He had papers with him, and the students who shared his table looked to be giving him his space.
“I’m sorry,” Basen said as he put the heavy book down on the only clear spot on the table within Jack’s reach. “I lost track of time.”
“I thought you might,” Jack said as he swept the book to him, pushing all the papers to the side. “Which is why I gave you only an hour when you really had two. I just wanted it back before lunch hours were over so I can read after.” He went back to writing.
Sneaky. “Well, you won’t find anything useful about Yeso or Ulric,” Basen whispered as he left quickly, hoping Jack wouldn’t hear until it was too late. Otherwise, the master chemist would stop Basen from leaving, and there wasn’t time for further delay. He had people to gather.
“Basen!”
Now many tables away, he turned.
Jack stood to say something but then simply nodded, as if he understood Basen would be leaving no matter what.
On his way to Jack’s table, Basen had noticed Crea Hiller sitting with Abith. Now they shared hushed words while glancing about suspiciously. They stopped as Basen approached.
“We need to speak,” he told Crea.
Crea was the one who’d sent Juliana to Tenred’s prison, where she remained.
Rescuing her was the first part of his plan.
“We should,” Crea agreed. “Meet me at house number three hundred fifteen as soon as lunch hours are over.”
Three hundred fifteen. He refrained from smirking until he turned around. Terren put her in a student house. He supposed it made sense, as it was probably the only vacant place for her. Still, it couldn’t have been easy to convince her to accept it. I wonder where Abith is staying. Basen looked back over his shoulder. Crea was considerably older, but was there something romantic there? Basen didn’t get that impression, and he was usually quite good at picking up on things like that. Their relationship was probably purely political. Although Abith might not need her once she loses control over the troops from Tenred.
Basen crafted the last parts of his plan as he waited in line for food. But a familiar face staring at him interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over to meet the eyes of the man he remembered from his time at the workhouse. The man did not look away, only worsened his scowl.
What in god’s world is wrong with him? Basen scowled right back. The man was Basen’s father’s age, yet much less imposing than Henry. His expression was that of anger, not calculation or threat. It only served to prove what Basen already thought about him from their brief encounters in the workhouse. He was angry, as if he blamed the world for his unhappiness. He’d insult anyone who bothered him, so Basen and Henry had kept their distance.
This man had attempted to kill one of the frightened women trying to leave the Academy yesterday. If he still holds a grudge because I stopped him—I can’t worry about it now.
Basen got his food and noticed a small space beside Effie at a nearly full table. He stood behind the bench where he hoped to squeeze in.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Basen! Where were you?”
“Move over and I’ll tell you.”
She scooted to give him room. Every table was crowded like this, thanks to all the new people at the Academy. After the losses the school had suffered, however, a packed dining hall was a good problem to have.
Before he could say a word to Effie, Penny came to stand on the other side of the table.
“Where the bastial hell were you during battle training!”
The entire table of at least a dozen people stopped eating to stare.
“It’ll require a long explanation, Mage Penny,” he said apologetically. “Instead, let me assure you it’s extremely important to this war.”
His words did nothing to soften her harsh look. “I don’t care how important you think it is—no matter what you’re doing! If you miss training again, I will put you in a lower group. I’m thinking at least ten, given your reckless behavior. You can’t keep missing training and then expect to know what to do during battle. The Group One mages have to be the most coordinated. You’ll get yourself or others killed.”
He sympathized with Penny, he really did. But that didn’t sway him from his purpose. “I’m sorry. I need to do this.”
Her mouth dropped open in horror. “You’re going to miss more. On purpose?”
He nodded regretfully. “I’ll accept the consequences, whatever they are.”
She closed her mouth, her jaw muscles bulging. He feared she would humiliate him more before storming off, but instead, she just shook her head and said, “Are you going to be careful?”
The question surprised him too much for him to answer right away. Would he? “Careful” would be to do exactly as Fatholl asked or to stay put and hope he’d be protected here. Instead, he planned not only to poke the beehive but to persuade the queen bee to leave it.
He thought for a moment, unwilling to lie to Penny. As their audience stared and waited, he could only smile apologetically and shrug.
“I’m sorry, Penny. I don’t want to lie to you. But I’m doing what I believe to be right.”
Penny shook her head. “It’s not just my job here to teach students how to improve. I’m to teach them how to stay alive. You’re making this very difficult.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.
“Bastial hell, Basen,” Effie remarked, then chuckled as she spoke with heavy sarcasm, “She’s not very happy with you.”
He pinned her with a serious look, knowing what he was about to say would otherwise be taken as a joke.
“She’s not going to be very happy with you, either.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Basen heard footsteps approaching his door. He was almost done packing for his trip—there wasn’t much to take—and opened the door before his father had a chance to knock. He smiled as he hugged Henry, who gave him a firm pat on the back, then leaned back for a good look at his face.
Basen must look tired, possibly even upset. Henry finally had made time for him, but now Basen had to leave.
“How are you able to resist psyche?” he asked, needing to know in case he might have to do so himself. And very soon.
“Training and practice, Basen. Repetition. You’ll learn soon. I’ll make sure Terren selects you as one of the many to get lessons.”
I won’t be here. Henry continued before Basen could reply. “I’m sending someone to get Juliana out of prison and bring her to the Academy.”
Basen had feared two things about telling his father of her whereabouts. One was that Henry would kill Crea for what she’d done to his wife. The other was that he’d come to a hasty decision about how to free her.
“Whoever you’re sending,” Basen said, “they won’t make it to Tenred. The Fjallejon Mountains have been taken.”
“He will go around.”
He. Just one man. Basen had been taught from an early age never to speak back to his father, but everything had changed during their time in the workhouse. Through the pain of Juliana’s supposed betrayal and the endless hard work he and his father had endured, Basen had earned Henry’s mutual respect.
But it appeared that another shift had happened since then. He could see his father now wearing the same stoic look he used to in the castle, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“If he goes far enough around the mountains so he’s not seen,” Basen said, “it could take a week to reach Mother.”
“One week is not long,” Henry replied. “Plus another week to return.”
“Unless she’s frail from her time in that cage and must travel slowly.”
“I’ve thought of that, but this is the only option.”
“How is this man supposed to get Mother out of prison?”
“He has a signed decree from Crea Hiller that Juliana is to be released.”
Now this was embarrassing. Basen had never caught his father lying before and didn’t know what to say. He’d just spoken to Crea. The awkward conversation had been short but fruitful. Basen really did have a signed decree from Crea, while his father probably had a forgery.
Basen had asked Crea if his father had spoken with her yet, and she’d protested, “You should’ve waited for me to tell him myself.”
“He won’t retaliate,” Basen had assured her, though he wasn’t confident it was true.
“I’m not worried about that! I had a good reason behind that difficult choice.”
Yes you are, and no you didn’t. “I came here for a signed document from you ordering my mother’s release. Let’s just get on with this and not speak more about it, all right?”
Crea had looked confused for a moment, then surprised. She’d clearly expected him to ask more of her, probably for her to go to Tenred and retrieve Juliana. It would’ve been more than fair for Basen or his father to ask, but that didn’t mean Crea would do it.
“All right,” she’d agreed.
Basen had folded his arms and waited.
Crea had dragged a blank scroll in front of her, dipped her quill in the inkwell and begun to write as Basen waited near the open door.
Neither had spoken until she’d finished and handed it to him.
“I assure you this will be more than enough for the warden to release her.”
She’d sounded as if she expected him to thank her. She was lucky he didn’t run a sword through her black heart.
Why would his father lie now? Basen opted not to find out. Henry had always been direct and sometimes stern to the point of frightening people. He wouldn’t hold himself back from telling Crea what he thought of her. Especially not here at the Academy, where she had no power over him like she had in Tenred castle. To lie meant Henry was covering up something else—an inability to meet with Crea.
That’s it, Basen realized. He doesn’t want to meet with her because he can’t treat her in the only way she’ll allow people to treat her. He can’t play that role anymore.
Basen wanted to tell his father he needn’t worry about that any longer. Crea had been stripped of much of her power. But shouldn’t Henry already know that?
God’s mercy. “You want to kill her, don’t you?”
He expected his father to deny it. He wanted his father to deny it. Henry looked like a different man as he met Basen’s gaze with a lowered head. His eyes burned with a deep rage Basen hadn’t seen since the day of their exile.
“She would’ve let Juliana rot in prison for years, just for a chance at conquering Kyrro. Your mother has been through enough.”
The power of Henry’s words could’ve moved mountains.
“She has,” Basen agreed. “Which is why we should get her out as soon as we can. I saw how she lives, Father. She’s trapped with a group of ignorant women who have annoyed her to the point of anger. She never gets upset, so you know how miserable she must be for me to have seen her like that. But even through all of her torture, she pleaded with me to leave without her because I might’ve been in danger. Let’s not make her wait any longer.”
“I wouldn’t want to but…” His father raised his eyebrows. “You mean to go yourself. That’s why you’re not in battle training. You’re preparing to leave imminently!” Henry shook his head. “No. She wouldn’t want you to do something so dangerous, and I don’t, either. Besides, you can’t get there any faster.”
“But I can.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking of going through the pathway.” Henry squinted and leaned close. “You’ve always assumed yourself to be invulnerable. Your mother and I constantly worried we’d hear news of your death after you climbed up some precipice to impress your friends. You’re too old and smart to live like that anymore.”
“Father, there’s no risk. I’m going to make a portal there. I’ll get her out today.”
Henry tilted his head as he took pause. “You mentioned portals yesterday, but I didn’t understand what you meant. To what could you be referring?”
Basen patted his father on the shoulder and smiled. “You should be proud. Your son is a portal mage.”
But Henry seemed to be in no mood for joy or pride. He took Basen’s hand off his shoulder.
“Explain yourself.”
“How else to explain it? I can make portals.”
Henry appeared annoyed, as if this was a joke.
“I’m serious,” Basen said. “You can stay and watch if you’d like.”
“You really can make a portal?”
“Yes, to Tenred. Specifically to the kitchen on the first level. I can’t make a portal everywhere, only where I’ve been before, and it has to be a place where bastial energy has been gathered enough times to weaken the invisible walls of our world. Jack Rose can explain it better, if you want. Or you can wait until I return. I don’t have time to get into it right now.”
Henry’s mouth hung open as he looked to be waiting for the punch line to a joke he cared little about.
“Show me now,” he demanded.
“I can’t. I need a charged akorell stone for each portal, and I won’t waste its stored energy just to prove to you I can make one. I’m not ready to go through the portal yet.”
“You have an akorell stone?”
“Yes. You remember Alabell? She took the akorell stone from Kyrro’s castle when she escaped and later gave it to me.”
Deep lines formed in Henry’s forehead.
“I can’t return with Mother. I can only free her. But I trust that the people coming with me will bring her back to you safely. You’ll see her soon enough. I need to go to Merejic after Tenred to fulfill a promise
I made to someone very powerful. He’s a psychic, Father, so I could use some specific instructions on resisting psyche.”
Henry didn’t say a word, his confused expression never changing.
Effie came to the open doorway and waved. Basen nodded to her and told his father, “It’s time for me to go. So if you have anything to tell me, any advice…”
Behind Effie were Steffen, Annah, Vithos, and Crim the Krepp. The mage had done well getting them here quickly after lunch hours. Basen hadn’t even finished packing yet, though he could in another minute.
His father turned to see the party going with Basen, then returned his focus to his son.
Say something, Father!
But Henry still remained silent.
“Effie is one of the strongest mages at the Academy,” Basen explained. “She’s experienced with both bastial and sartious energy. Steffen is the only true battle chemist I know of, skilled with bow and sword, and he’s a healer on top of that. Annah is knowledgeable and good with psyche, perhaps the best of the first-years. The three of them will get Juliana back here safely.”
Annah bowed low as Henry faced them fully. “It’s an honor to meet you, Henry Hiller.”
Basen was surprised, and even more so when the others, except for Crim, bowed as low as Annah had. A sight like that would’ve been common in Tenred, but it was something else to see his father already had garnered such respect here in so short a time.
“I’m not sure if you’ve had a chance to meet any Krepps,” Basen said. “Crim helped us return to the Academy the first time, and it’s in his best interest to help again. When we go to Tenred to free Juliana, we’ll also be freeing some of his imprisoned Krepps.”
“Not my Krepps,” Crim grunted. “No Krepp belong to Krepp.”
“I can understand why Crim would go,” Henry said, “but why would the rest of you choose to do this?” When none gave a response, he looked at Basen. “Did you force Terren to send them?”
“No, Terren doesn’t know.”