by B. T. Narro
It could’ve been five minutes or thirty before he opened his eyes again. He felt as if he’d just awakened from a week of sleep as he had to squint against the brightness of the evening sun, momentarily forgetting where he was but not what he was doing.
His legs were tingling as if anticipating a race. He burst into a sprint and let out a manic laugh. He ran faster and faster, feeling as if he could take flight if he jumped.
He approached a tree, its lowest branch about as high as the Academy’s wall. He leapt and felt as if he were in a dream where gravity didn’t exist. He soared so high he frightened himself and flailed his legs. His hand brushed against the branch before he finally sank down to earth.
He stumbled into a somersault, then rolled.
When he came to a stop, he lifted his arms and held in a shout of triumph to release it only as a guttural whisper. “Yesssss!”
Looking up at the branch, he let out a curse of surprise. It really was about as tall as the Academy’s wall. He raised his arm and extended his fingers to judge the distance that he’d jumped. It was about the length of his leg…his entire leg. He’d really jumped that high? Then he saw how far he’d run from the wall. God’s mercy.
He had to make sure he could reproduce the same results. So he focused his mind again, keenly aware of exactly what he was doing with the energy. He readied himself much quicker this time, then broke into a sprint. The grass at his feet became a blur. He’d always been a decent sprinter, a better jumper, and an excellent distance runner, beating his friends in any contest of stamina, but never had he felt control over his body as precisely as this.
He kept running, needing to find out just how fast he could go. But even though he wasn’t fatigued, his body soon slowed to the speed he was used to. He felt none of the same burst of energy in his legs.
He tried to conjure up more energy as he ran, but all he ended up doing was dragging it out of the upper half of his body and instantly draining his stamina, suddenly feeling cold and tired.
He sat right there and threw his arms around himself. It only took a few moments to feel right again, but he’d learned his lesson. These bursts of energy were just that—bursts. And now his legs felt as if he’d run a few miles. They were tight and hot, and probably would cause him pain tomorrow. Normally he wouldn’t care, except injury might stop him from training further, and he had so much to explore now.
He wasn’t a psychic, but it almost felt as if he was performing psyche on himself to achieve this result. The key wasn’t moving energy from the air or from one part of his body into his legs, it was using the energy already there—his natural energy—to push his body to its limit.
“As humans, we’re born with the idea that we’re capable of extraordinary things,” Basen said as he paced in circles. “Children fantasize they have powers to the point of actually convincing themselves they might. This fades with time as we get older, but only after we fail to achieve these abilities. Many people, like me, still fantasize about discovering abilities that break the rules.”
Basen wasn’t sure who he was talking to, exactly. He’d just felt compelled to find an explanation as to why he felt like a little boy again. There were definitely limitations to these bursts of energy, but he was confident he would find a way of pushing his body a lot further than he had today.
He jogged back to the wall, glad to be able to use the energy in his legs once again. Instead of pushing himself to the utmost speed he could achieve, he kept his slower pace to see if this energy could increase his stamina.
By the time he got to the wall, his legs already felt better than before. It was as if he’d let them rest. This is how Cleve finished first.
Basen could only imagine what he could accomplish once he learned how to use this energy more efficiently. He looked around for the wall guard but saw only unfamiliar men patrolling the wall.
“Excuse me,” he called to one of them.
“You must be Basen,” the man replied. “The other guard left with the rope. He told me I shouldn’t open the gate for you, so you’ll have to go around to one of the other sides.”
That was no problem, for Basen wanted to jog anyway. Actually, the wall was looking rather low…
He went to grab his wand and Abith’s sword, putting both in their respective sheaths. He strengthened his legs with energy as he envisioned the jump, then got a running start and leapt. He still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of flying as he propelled himself up and got his hands around the small stone blocks that made the parapets. He pulled himself up and over, then smiled at the surprised wall guard.
“Bastial hell, it’s like you have Kreppen blood in you.”
So this is why meditation is taught to all mages at an early age. There was no doubt it would help recoup stamina. It would take time to be able to use the energy in the same way he used his muscles, without concentrating to do so, but he was certain he’d get there eventually. When doing it correctly, it felt like flexing his mind toward a part of his body, almost like aiming his hand to grab something.
Basen cursed as he noticed the Redfield clock. Dinner hours were almost over!
He grabbed his sword, ran down the ramp to the dining hall, and hurried inside. He found Abith sitting with his usual group of followers, as if his training session with Terren had never happened.
Basen stopped short. Should he give Abith back his sword in front of everyone? Abith stopped eating when he noticed Basen holding the wooden weapon behind his leg and trudged over angrily.
“You were to meet me at Warrior’s Field.” He put his arm around Basen and turned him away from the table. “You cannot return my sword here.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t notice the time until it was too late.”
Abith grew his usual smile. “Have something to show me, then?”
Basen mimicked his smile. “I do indeed.”
“Good. Bring my sword to the northern wall at the same time tomorrow. Bring yours as well.”
“So, Terren…?”
“Yes, he’ll be there. I need his approval to do what I have planned for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
In the morning, Basen awoke early with newfound appreciation for the sword. He dressed and practically skipped out the door. His schedule was a dream. First, a delicious breakfast, then training until lunch, then more delicious food, and then he would find out what Abith had planned for him. Abith probably expected Basen to already have some grasp over using bastial energy for bursts of strength, so Basen would do everything in his power to improve as much as possible before their meeting. Abith was a fickle man who judged people quickly. He might lose interest if Basen couldn’t keep up.
By the time Basen reached the dining hall, breakfast hours had only just begun, yet the enormous room was about half full. He was headed toward the line when his heart slammed like a bell chime against his chest. Alabell walked toward him, wearing a dress of white that made her auburn hair look like a sunset. Suddenly it felt as if his tongue had rolled down into his throat. His chest tightened as he struggled for breath.
Her skin glowed as she walked beneath the beams of light streaming in through the windows. The gentle slope of her neck to her elegant shoulders led Basen’s eyes down her body. Her curves were accentuated by her dress, all the way to where it fell to her knees. He drank her in and couldn’t stop, completely undone by her perfection. She halted in front of him and shared her most gentle, most forgiving smile, as if telling Basen he was being rude yet excusing him for it at the same time.
“You’re staring.”
All sense of hunger, gone. All excitement for training, gone. All he wanted was her.
He felt nearly satisfied to stand close to her. Nearly. But he wanted more. There had to be some sort of energy yet to be discovered, for he felt it when he was near Alabell, his body aflame, every sense in tune with her. She was the only thing more powerful than the strongest psychic.
The silence had gone on too long.
He had to say something. Make her laugh.
“It was you,” he blurted.
God’s mercy, he wanted to slap himself.
“What was me?”
She frowned, but he couldn’t stop now. “It was you who entered my thoughts when I was in the worst pain of my life. It was you who saved me.”
“Basen…” She cast her gaze down. “I can’t…”
“Everything felt right when I met you. And as I got to know you…as I caught a glimpse of what it would be like to be with you, it felt like we’d been together for years. I know you, and you know me too.” He shook his head. He sounded like a bumbling idiot. “I don’t know how to explain it, and yet I can tell you feel the same way.”
She nodded, still refusing to look up at him.
“No matter how right the rest of my life is now,” he said, “it just doesn’t feel right without you.”
“I have to go.”
He felt like a fool as she hurried off. Looking back at him, she seemed almost mesmerized. She bumped into a Krepp, bounced off his bare chest, and fell to the floor.
Basen was there in a flash to help her up. The Krepp said nothing as he walked around them. Meanwhile, Basen couldn’t take his hand off her arm, barely resisting the urge to pull her close and kiss her.
He’d met other women like Alabell who’d made his heart race, but none had this effect on him. He felt like they were two magnets and it went against his nature to stand so close without coming together.
His other half.
“I really do have to go,” she said, her hand coming down onto his and squeezing. “That Krepp you met is waiting for me. It’s why I had to eat early. There’s too much for us to do, and it takes an eternity to communicate the simplest things.”
“All right,” Basen said, his reluctance obvious.
But Alabell didn’t move. She looked down and realized she still held his hand, then carefully peeled it off like unwrapping a bandage. Basen felt as if she’d left him with an exposed wound. He needed her to return and touch him again for it to heal. She matched his gaze the whole way and was fortunate she didn’t run into anyone else.
Basen looked around and remembered he was here to eat. His appetite came back slowly as he waited in line. When he got his plate of food, he looked around for someone to sit with and found Cleve beside Nebre. Basen went to join them.
Cleve actually smiled as he looked up from his food. “You’ve done well.”
“Well, thank you, Cleve. And how are the new Krepps faring?”
“Excellent. They fight well together, and they’ve been teaching the other Krepps better than we’ve been able to.”
“They understand human customs better,” Nebre added. “But my father is trying to learn more every day.”
“Lu ro…how do I say ‘happy’?” Cleve asked.
“Heez.”
“Lu ro heez pa felks?”
“No.” Nebre looked at Basen in a way that made it clear an explanation was coming. “He’s not happy with humans, but he’s happy with the Academy.”
“Your Kreppen is coming along nicely,” Basen told Cleve.
“Not as quickly as I’d hoped.”
“If only you could learn language by swinging a sword, you’d be a master in a week. Speaking of sword swinging, what’s happened with Peter since his return?”
Cleve set down his spoon, appearing slightly perturbed. “Do you want the truth?”
“Always, Cleve.”
“With Alex gone, Peter has become my best teammate.” Cleve put up his hand and spoke quickly before Basen could say anything. “Peter knows how I fight better than anyone else because he’s studied me in hopes of beating me.”
“So the two of you fight together now?”
“They haven’t been defeated in team combat,” Nebre commented.
“What about solo?”
“I’ve lost to Rickik a few times now,” Cleve replied. “He’s improving quickly here, and he’s stronger than I am.” At first it sounded like Cleve was making an excuse, but then Basen realized the warrior was speaking about his defeat to compliment Rickik.
“I’m glad the headache of getting them here will be worth it,” Basen said. “I met Micklin recently. I heard he stays with you.”
Cleve seemed focused on his meal, so Basen let him eat for a while. Only when the warrior was done did he lean back and speak about the boy.
“He complains often that he isn’t useful, and I always have to convince him that he is. Just because he doesn’t fight doesn’t mean he has little to offer.”
“Like Nebre, for example,” Basen said and smiled at the Krepp.
“Thank you,” Nebre replied with a silly grin of his long mouth. “But I do fight.”
“Oh.” It was hard to imagine.
“I train, but I’m not very good. I have been wanting to ask you if you met Zoke when you returned to Merejic?”
Basen sighed as he realized he couldn’t lie to Nebre.
“I did. He wants you to go to Regash Forest to help him…” But Basen could bend the truth without guilt. “When you’re done with us.”
Nebre appeared confused.
“He said you’re friends,” Basen added.
“He said that?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
Nebre wouldn’t answer, his lizard eyes focused on the table. Eventually, his head began to shake back and forth as if telling himself “no.”
“Zoke smiled when he’d found out you’d written a book about the war,” Cleve told Nebre.
The Krepp appeared even more confused, deep wrinkles bending the scales across his forehead.
“Whatever happened between you,” Basen said, “he doesn’t care about it anymore.”
“He must still care because I tried to kill him. I called him a coward. I was wrong, but I never spoke to him again.”
Basen couldn’t believe this peaceful Krepp had tried to kill Zoke. Cleve seemed stunned as well.
“He’s forgiven you,” Basen said.
But Nebre shook his head. “Krepps do not forgive because we do not apologize. They accept or allow for change. I suppose, somehow, he has accepted me as friend, even though there has not been a chance for change. It’s difficult to explain to humans.” He put his palms flat against the table and stood. “I would like to see him. How far is Regash Forest and why does he need my help?”
Basen sighed again. This was what he’d feared. “It’s in Kilmar, but I can create a portal there when you’re ready. The Elves have used psyche to persuade Krepps to build a home there and perhaps one day attack us humans. Zoke is trying to maintain peace, but it will take many months for them to build their new settlement. I doubt they’ll attack until it’s done. Stay with us a while longer. We need you.”
Nebre sat. “I will.”
Basen relaxed as he leaned back and let out his breath. He was eager to finish his meal and get to training.
But soon the conversation with Cleve turned to using bastial energy in their limbs to fight, and Basen found better use of his time here.
He ended up staying in the dining hall with Cleve throughout breakfast hours.
*****
Basen was thankful when Cleve offered to skip morning battle training to help Basen get a better grasp on using bastial energy for combat. Though, Basen secretly hoped Cleve would learn something himself before the two of them were done.
They had until lunch before Basen would need to eat and then meet with Abith and Terren. He wouldn’t dare break his promise to Terren to keep the sparring sessions with Abith a secret, even if Cleve was his nephew. The politics of it were too messy. But battle was coming. Everyone had to do what they must to prepare, so Basen appreciated Abith and Terren training.
Weapons of war were in construction: catapults and ballistae. Kyrro wasn’t large enough for Tauwin to find anywhere to hide his, so he kept them in the open at the edge of Oakshen, where scouts of Kyrro’s Allies could easily track the work. Meanwhile, U
lric’s men atop the Fjallejon Mountains had a clear view of the Academy’s weapons of war that Basen had heard were being built in the southeastern section of the campus, where the wide road ran between the classrooms and the farms.
Cleve brought Basen with him to Warrior’s Field, where he asked Sneary for permission to train with Basen until the afternoon. Sneary hardly had to think about it before he allowed Cleve to separate from the group. They found plenty of open room on the outskirts of the grass where they wouldn’t be bothered and took out their training swords. Basen still had Abith’s practice sword and hoped Cleve wouldn’t do anything to damage it.
“It seems strange,” Basen commented, “that the use of energy to boost strength isn’t taught or even discussed.”
“Not as strange as the lack of discussion about learning Kreppen.” Cleve warmed up his arms with a few showy swings of his sword. “There are many things a man can learn either on his own or through the help of others, yet very little of it is required to make us good fighters. Besides, most warriors do try using energy at first. They give up before they notice any benefit. Are you ready?”
“We’re just going to fight? That’s it?”
“We spent long enough at breakfast going over how to use the energy. It’s time to practice.”
Cleve came at Basen with half speed. The big warrior showed well in advance that he would be bringing his sword down in an obvious strike. Basen stepped aside and tried to teach Cleve a lesson for going too easy on him, attempting to strike Cleve’s hip with a burst of speed.
But Cleve got his sword down in a flash to block Basen and kicked his ankle. As he stumbled, Cleve poked him in the arm with his wooden sword.
“That was good,” Cleve said. “But you have to remember to defend yourself. That’s the biggest weakness of using a new power. We strive to use it even when it isn’t opportune to do so. I advise you to think first about improving your defense with bastial energy. Then focus on your offense.”
“A fireball to your chest might be the only defense I can use to stop you.”