A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4)

by B. T. Narro

  “It’s true,” Tauwin’s psychic said.

  Sanya had little confidence she could make it out of the castle alive if this went wrong, but she would put up an epic fight. Part of her longed to be caught. It had been a while since she’d had the chance to swing a sword, and she was feeling more agitated each night she went to sleep without experiencing a battle.

  At first, she couldn’t figure out why she rose out of bed with a pounding heart and why the thought of going to Warrior’s Field calmed her. She became more panicked as she realized she would never again have that opportunity, unless she fought in the battle everyone knew was coming. But there was no side she could join for which a victory would benefit her. And if there was no point in victory, then there was no point in fighting.

  “Are you loyal to me?” Tauwin asked.

  She nodded.

  “It’s true, sire.”

  Tauwin put up his palm as if annoyed by his psychic. “You don’t need to speak unless she lies.” The monarch turned his head as he squinted at Sanya. “Why are you loyal?”

  “Is it because you are a Takary?” Kithala asked, clearly trying to help “Laree” through an inquisition that would be difficult for the timid, mute girl she pretended to be.

  Sanya nodded.

  “Do you seek vengeance against Ulric’s assassin?”

  This was the first troublesome question. She had only to answer the way Tauwin wanted, but why did he care about her vengeance, or lack of it? If he’d sent Ulric’s assassin, which was almost certain, her need for vengeance might pose a risk to him. Or was he so confident he wouldn’t be caught that her need for vengeance would prove her loyalty to the family?

  She shook her head. She didn’t want Tauwin to know she was capable of hurting anyone. It would only help her cause when it came time to kill him.

  He seemed satisfied by her answer, leaning back on his throne.

  “Are you wearing a mask to hide your identity?”

  She shook her head.

  “To hide your ugliness?” Tauwin asked.

  She nodded.

  “Show me.”

  Sanya didn’t move.

  “Take off your mask.” Tauwin wasn’t demanding, but he would be soon. Sanya shifted to face Kithala.

  “Tauwin,” his mother said in a careful voice. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to do that, which is the reason she keeps herself covered.”

  “If she’s to stay here and overhear my sensitive plans, she’ll need to show herself to me.”

  “You’ve already questioned her loyalty and her name. You would embarrass her just to satisfy your curiosity?”

  “It’s more than just curiosity. What if someone else comes into the castle disguised with a silver mask and black robes and we need to identify him or her? What if she gets lost or captured? There are many situations that, if we never know Laree’s face, will prove difficult for us.”

  Had Tauwin gotten smarter since Sanya had last been here? She could feel with psyche that it was only curiosity that drove his request, but without psyche, she never would’ve known.

  “You’re right,” Kithala agreed. “I’m sorry, Laree, but please remove your hood and mask for a moment.”

  Sanya glanced at Hector. He stepped toward her, cocking his head to the side and taking his ax in hand.

  She carefully adjusted her silver mask, making sure it wasn’t stuck. She could only hope her preparation and her psyche would keep her alive.

  She slowly slid the mask up to reveal a chin that looked as if it had been coated in rust and dried blood. Her flayed flesh continued up to her mouth as she lifted her mask higher, her lips turning inward. Her cheeks looked like mangled plums stomped into white dirt. She got her mask up over her head to reveal one eye. The other was closed, her eyelid painted a grotesque mix of red and white like the rest of her face. She revealed her forehead last, sliding up the mask to hide her hair beneath her hood.

  The ground leaves and mixture of oil, butter, and glue wouldn’t normally create such a hideous appearance. But when set in the right way, and when the audience knew what to expect, the result was unmistakable.

  Tauwin made a sound of disgust. He closed his eyes and looked away as he pushed his hand down. “Put your mask back on.”

  “Does it hurt?” Kithala asked with a concerned expression.

  Sanya nodded. Sympathy would help her cause.

  Sanya was a woman of many skills, but altering the appearance of her face was not one of them. It was Ulric who’d taught her how to do this, using his own bare face as an example. After Yeso’s death, she and Ulric had spent a couple days together in the Fjallejon Mountains as his plan came together.

  There had been nothing ugly about his face one might want to hide. He was as handsome as any man could be in his fifties, with piercing brown eyes that radiated wisdom beyond his years. He’d given her no warning before removing his mask. He’d simply taken it off the way a man might remove his hat.

  “It’s finally time,” he’d told a shocked Sanya. “You need to remember how I look because it will be important later.”

  When she’d asked him why, all he would say was that someone would die soon. This man would be wearing Ulric’s clothes, have the same hairstyle, the same bronze skin tone, and be of the same height and weight. “But he’s not me,” Ulric had added. “Prepare a note for Tauwin that, no matter what he asks of you, will convince him you are loyal. And be ready to show him your hideous face.”

  She had done exactly that during her short trip back to the castle. It had been uncomfortable, her skin feeling stretched and itchy from the alteration. But now, with her mask back on and Tauwin in her pocket, she finally relaxed. She could tell from his expression he would never ask her to prove a single thing again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Basen trained hard with Abith every hour of every day and collapsed into bed each night after the long walk back from the northern wall.

  All was well, until one night when someone came into his room to kill him. Sanya. He fell out of bed and scrambled toward his sword.

  I should’ve locked my door! I should’ve had my sword closer!

  Then Annah screamed, and he realized his mistake.

  “It’s all right!” he told her, sitting with his hand clutched to his chest. He let his sword fall, metal clanking against the wooden floor. “God’s mercy, what are you doing coming into my room at night? I thought you were Sanya.”

  “I just wanted to make sure—”

  Someone burst through the front door of their house. “Annah!” It was Alabell. She came running down the hall. “Basen!” She fell to her knees in front of him. “Is it your chest?”

  He lowered his hand. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” She slipped her hand under his shirt to put her palm against his chest. “It’s racing.”

  “Because you’re touching me.”

  She closed her eyes and put her forehead against his. “You worried me.”

  “I’m fine,” he repeated.

  She removed her hand and stood to face Annah. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I apologize for screaming.”

  “What happened?” Alabell asked.

  “She came into my room,” Basen said as he pushed himself up. “I went for my sword thinking it was Sanya.”

  “I’m sorry,” Annah said. “I haven’t seen you in days, so I wanted to check on you. I didn’t even know if you were still living here. Have you been sleeping somewhere else?”

  “If everyone’s all right, I should be leaving,” Alabell said abruptly.

  “Stay.” Basen gave her a pleading look. He needed her to hear that he wasn’t spending his nights in other women’s beds. “I’ve been here every night, Annah.”

  “So then you’re coming home after I’m asleep and leaving in the morning before I’m up.”

  “I’ve been training.” He wished he could show them the speeds he could reach, the heights he could jump, the theatrical ye
t effective attacks he’d learned that would surprise any enemy.

  Each day, Abith had brought a new mage to train with them. By the end of the day, the mage would be sent back to his group and a new man would be selected the following day. It was really unfortunate Sanya had turned out to be a traitor, because she was the only person, man or woman, who Basen was certain could meet Abith’s strict requirements.

  Basen was barely keeping up with his instructor’s demands. Abith had one habit in particular Basen wished he hadn’t forgotten about. He expected greater achievements the more Basen accomplished, so Abith was never satisfied, only momentarily pleased. This made Basen strive harder to earn his respect.

  “I can’t imagine Jackrie forcing everyone in Group Eight to train after dinner hours,” Annah said.

  “How did you know I’d been sent to Group Eight?”

  “People talk about Basen the Cunning a lot,” Alabell said, sounding as if she didn’t appreciate that fact. “I knew it as well.”

  “What are you training?” Annah asked. “And where?”

  “The two of you like surprises, don’t you?”

  “No,” they answered at the same time.

  He sighed. “Very well. I’ve been with Abith Max.”

  “You’re training with him?” Annah’s voice cracked as it rose.

  “Does Terren know?” Alabell asked.

  “Yes and yes.” Basen was too tired for more talk. He got beneath his sheets, turned on his side, and closed his eyes. “If either of you want to speak more about it, we can do so in the dining hall. I tend to eat breakfast and lunch early, and dinner even earlier. Good night.”

  He fell asleep and never heard them leave his room.

  *****

  During breakfast the next morning, Abith approached. “We won’t be training today,” he said as he walked by Basen’s table without turning his head. “Eat as much as you can and then relax here or go back home and sleep.”

  Abith left before Basen could ask why.

  He ate, then went home. Curiosity kept him awake for all of a minute before he fell asleep.

  He awoke later to the loud ringing of the Redfield bell. It stopped after three, signifying that all were to meet at the stadium for an announcement.

  Battle.

  He was ready, though that didn’t ease his nerves. He removed the wooden training sword from his sheath and replaced it with steel. As he walked to the stadium, he felt butterflies in his stomach and ants crawling down his arms. He took a deep breath.

  Having to walk to the center of campus from the student housing area made him the last to arrive. The stadium was already packed, and Terren took his place in the center. Basen hurried up the steps, looking for a seat.

  “Basen,” a man called out.

  He looked over to see Neeko and Shara moving over to create a spot for him. Basen sat and thanked them. He noticed Shara staring at his sword. She looked up at him with worried eyes.

  “It’s time?”

  “I think so,” Basen said.

  She grabbed Neeko’s hand.

  As Terren raised his arms for silence, Basen checked his comrades around him. It seemed that most people had come to the same conclusion as he had, their faces hard with determination, their eyes staring at Terren as they waited for the inevitable news.

  But what the headmaster said first shocked the stadium.

  “Three days ago, Ulric Takary was assassinated.” Gasps and murmurs interrupted him, so he raised his arms again. “Allow me to finish before you start speaking amongst each other.”

  A hush fell over the stadium.

  “We became aware of the news yesterday, but we weren’t able to confirm it until later. This morning our scouts noticed that Ulric’s ships from Greenedge are now gone. Tauwin must’ve convinced them to wait until night before leaving in hopes we wouldn’t notice his army shrinking to half its size.”

  People began to clap and cheer, and Basen joined them.

  “Tauwin’s army still outnumbers ours, we believe, but not by much,” Terren said to answer the question shouted at him by several students.

  The cheering resumed. Terren let it go on for a little while, then lifted his arms once again.

  “We have to act fast, now. Needing to recruit more, Tauwin will put pressure on the citizens of Kyrro. He might starve them, threaten to kill them, or bribe them into taking up arms against us. We need to attack before that, while his army is weak. It’s the only way to avoid battle coming to the Academy, which will surely destroy much of this beloved place. So today, we march to the capital.”

  Terren paused as if expecting a reaction, but there was none.

  “I admire all of your courage,” he continued. “I will lead the charge, but Tauwin will most likely be prepared for us. That is why we have no intention of storming the capital. We will fight to draw out his army while he watches the battle from atop his stolen castle. We will fight with aggression and fury, but also with strategy that will keep us protected from harm.

  “Most of our enemies have come from Greenedge to usurp our cities. But they will return with their tails between their legs because, by the end of this day, Tauwin will be dead.”

  Confusion spread as students murmured, “How will he die?”

  But Basen already knew, because he would be the assassin.

  *****

  Outside the stadium, every student—now soldier—gathered around their instructors, now officers. Henry’s seasoned troops stood before him in organized ranks, making everyone else look sloppy.

  The older troops from Tenred stood out. Having no instructors, they flocked to Abith and seemed the most nervous of any group. Meanwhile, the many staff and citizens who wouldn’t be fighting formed an unorganized circle around those who would. The onlookers appeared surprisingly happy, no doubt assuming this battle would finally put an end to their worries.

  Basen didn’t know where to go.

  Fortunately, neither did Neeko and Shara. They kept him company as they formed their own small circle between the many large clusters.

  “Any luck teaching your pyforial skills to others?” Basen asked Neeko.

  “A few people have been able to move the sand.”

  Basen mistakenly showed his surprise.

  “You didn’t think they would,” Neeko muttered.

  “Sorry, but no. How much longer until they can fight with pyforial energy?”

  Neeko and Shara chuckled.

  “Um, probably months,” Neeko replied.

  The two of you should’ve come here long ago.

  Eventually, Terren came over to them. “Shara, there’s a place for you among the mages who will stay at the back of our ranks with little risk of injury.”

  Neeko shook his head. “We agreed she wouldn’t be fighting.”

  “I wanted to let her know in case she changed her mind. It will be safe, Shara. These are the mages of the lower group numbers. If the enemy reaches them, we’ll be in retreat anyway.”

  “I’ll stay at the Academy,” Shara said in a meek voice.

  “All right,” Terren said with a smile. “That’s fine.” He looked around at his army. “I wish I could give everyone the same choice.” He gave a pointed look at Neeko. “We need you now.”

  “I’m ready. Tell me what I’m to do.”

  Basen was disappointed when he realized the headmaster had come over here only for Neeko. He figured his training with Abith would mean the two of them would go after Tauwin while everyone else distracted the enemy army. Basen imagined storming the castle with Abith and a psychic to protect them, confident they could get through any of Tauwin’s troops.

  Except one. The giant.

  Basen hoped that beast had already left with the others of Ulric’s army.

  “A small group will sneak into the capital from the south as the rest of us attack from the north,” Terren explained. “It can’t be more than a few people, otherwise your chances of being seen are too high. If Tauwin figures out the
real threat to his life is coming from the other way, he’ll call back his troops to defend the castle, and we’ll have a very messy battle in which a victory is not guaranteed.”

  Terren was looking between Basen and Neeko now, giving Basen hope. The headmaster seemed to notice someone behind Basen, and Basen turned his head to find Effie. Was she going instead of him? She was a more well-rounded mage, possessing skill with sartious energy. But Basen still felt he was the best person to go after Tauwin, besides Abith.

  “I’m just waiting to speak to them,” Effie told Terren.

  The headmaster leaned down again to Neeko’s eye level. “Are you sure you can kill him when the opportunity comes?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve heard what he’s done, so there will be no guilt.”

  But this was the reason Basen wanted to claim the kill. Tauwin had murdered Alabell’s family and tried to have her killed as well. Every time Basen thought of it, the rest of the war faded to the background. She’d almost died because of Tauwin. And this pretend king would gladly slit her throat if he got the chance.

  “You’ll be coming in through Oakshen,” Terren said.

  “Why Oakshen?” Basen asked, prickles going down his spine.

  “Because you can’t make a portal straight to the capital, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” He felt relief wash over him. He would have his chance. “Please tell me I’m going to the capital with Neeko instead of just taking him to Oakshen.”

  “Abith Max will be leading the two of you all the way there.”

  “Good. And that will take Abith out of the battle, so you don’t have to worry about him stabbing you in the back.”

  Terren pushed out his palm. “If you don’t trust Abith, this isn’t going to work.”

  “Oh, I trust him enough when we share the goal of killing Tauwin. It’s what he plans for you when this battle is over that I worry about.”

  “I know, but I’ll handle him when the time comes.”

  “What about the promise we made to Rickik?” Basen asked. “Tauwin’s bastial steel sword.”