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

by B. T. Narro

  “Don’t let that concern you now. Just focus on getting Neeko close enough to the castle so he can rise up and slay Tauwin by surprise.”

  So this was still just about Neeko. But Basen couldn’t dwell on his disappointment. Killing Tauwin, no matter who did the deed, was all that mattered now.

  “Abith will meet you here soon. Good luck.” Terren shook their hands and left.

  Effie took his spot and hugged Basen. “Be careful.”

  Being careful goes against our plan. She should be telling me to be audacious.

  “I will,” he said simply.

  She tilted her head. “Can I speak to Neeko and Shara alone?”

  A little confused, Basen shrugged and gave them privacy as they talked for a few minutes.

  Abith finished addressing his men, who joined the enormous group of warriors and quickly became lost among them. The Krepps began to cluck and screech with excitement, and Basen soon saw why.

  The other inhabitants of the Academy pushed wheelbarrows toward them filled with weapons and armor. Basen recognized all the plated chest pieces that had come from the Elves. Fatholl had intended them as his last gift to the Krepps before they left Merejic.

  It was strangely fitting that everyone had gotten what they wanted so far, even though everything had gone wrong. Rickik’s Krepps would fight, as they were born to do. The other Krepps were building their own home, which was their original reason for going to Merejic. Everyone loyal to Kyrro had joined to stand against Tauwin, including those from Tenred who saw this as an opportunity in the same way Tauwin’s mercenary troops did. Everyone would get their chance for honor and could even earn a stake in the Academy.

  Abith was one of the few mysteries left. How he planned to become headmaster was lost on Basen. After training so often with Terren, could Abith really bring himself to kill the man when this was done? There was no way Basen and the others would let Abith get away with it, and he had to know that and have something else planned.

  Eventually Effie left Neeko and Shara. The couple hugged before Neeko separated to join Basen.

  “What did Effie tell you?” Basen asked.

  “She didn’t want me to say.”

  Basen looked at Effie, who glanced at him over her shoulder. I thought we trusted each other.

  He could think of only one thing it could be. She’d heard of his encounter with Sanya, how he’d made no effort to kill her.

  She does trust me, except when it comes to taking vengeance for Alex.

  “She wants you to kill Sanya,” Basen said.

  Neeko looked surprised. “You won’t try to stop me, will you? I met Alex—I’m not sure if you knew that.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “He helped me even though he didn’t know me.”

  “That’s the kind of person he is.”

  They fell silent to respect the dead.

  “No, I won’t try to stop you.” But Basen wasn’t sure he could help Neeko if needed. Sanya had saved Basen’s life, and she was the reason they might be able to kill Tauwin before the end of the day. She’d done terrible things out of stupidity and deserved to be punished, but Basen didn’t want to be the one to take her miserable life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It was fortunate that Worender Training Center in Oakshen was empty. If anyone had seen Abith, Neeko, and Basen teleport in, they might’ve made a big enough scene for Tauwin’s city guards to find out. Abith had never told or heard anything from Tauwin about portals after Basen used one to escape the Fjallejon Mountains. However, some of Abith’s old troops could’ve told someone, who then told Tauwin. When Basen had asked how likely this was, Abith shrugged and said, “Not very. Most of the men I was given were poor excuses for soldiers. They probably fled the army after abandoning the mountain.”

  As Basen made his way west with Abith and Neeko beside him, they encountered dirty and hungry people who looked to have no home. Tauwin obviously had taken enough coin from the citizenry to make them destitute. No wonder so many had found their way to Trentyre, joining Basen’s father in the rebellion.

  Terren was leading the Academy’s army toward the capital from the north. It was about four miles, the same distance as it was from Basen’s location in Oakshen. But Basen’s party had to get to the castle before their army engaged in combat or many would die. They would have to kill Tauwin swiftly and then spread the word in hopes of bringing a quick end to the battle.

  Ideally, Basen could sever Tauwin’s head and run with it through the crowded streets of the capital. How would he carry it? By the hair? As satisfying as it would be to kill this king, the idea of such a spectacle was disgusting. Basen supposed he would have to figure out the logistics after the deed was done.

  It didn’t take long before people began to notice Basen’s party. They wore no armor, each donning plain pants and shirts that would give them the most mobility. Basen had even left his cloak behind, as it would only draw more attention. But now he was beginning to wonder if it would even matter. The three of them carried swords, Neeko with two on his belt. Everyone looked at them and wondered who they were if they weren’t Tauwin’s guards.

  Most of those loyal to Tauwin were on the northern side of the city, with the weapons of war. None of these people knew of the battle about to rock Kyrro. If they did, they might revolt.

  “Why aren’t we telling them?” Basen wondered aloud. “Some might want to join the fight.”

  “While others will see this as a chance for a reward and snitch on us,” Abith replied. “Yes, some might want to help, but we don’t need their help, and we certainly don’t need the risk of Tauwin becoming aware of us.”

  “People will snitch no matter what,” Basen argued. “Look at the way they regard us. They know we aren’t citizens of Oakshen strolling around the streets for fun.”

  “He’s right,” Neeko agreed. “If they help, they might distract our enemies enough to at least delay the transport of the catapults.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Abith said, picking up his pace. “Go faster. We’ll reach the forest soon enough.”

  “Delaying their catapults will help our comrades,” Basen said, unsure why he had to remind Abith of something so obvious. For every moment that Terren was able to use the Academy’s catapults and ballistae without worry of retaliation, it increased their chances of staying alive. “Our mages and archers are bound to be more skilled than theirs. Imagine our enemies’ disadvantage if they have to fight without their weapons of war.”

  Abith stopped and shot them an angry look. “You trust Terren, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Basen replied.

  “Terren didn’t send us here to cause a riot or delay the catapults from getting to him. Our task is to kill Tauwin, and it’s more important than anything else we could hope to do.” Abith broke into a jog. “Keep up and keep quiet if all you have to offer are alternatives to Terren’s plan.”

  They headed toward the forest in silence. It was painfully clear that Abith didn’t care how many people died.

  We have to be careful. He might not protect us if doing so slows him from getting to Tauwin.

  *****

  Cleve marched beside Terren at the front. They’d met no resistance so far, already halfway to the capital. They kept to the west, where there were fewer trees of Raywhite Forest to obscure their approach. This took away the element of surprise, but that didn’t matter. Tauwin had troops watching the Academy from the Fjallejon Mountains. No doubt they’d already sent him word of the impending attack.

  “Every time we march toward battle,” Terren said, “I think of it as the last time we’ll need to. I’m finally realizing how wrong I’ve been.” He looked ahead, his mouth now a flat line. “This world we live and die in…is forgiving to some, like us. We Polkens have never been known as scholars, yet we thrive here because of our ability to fight and strategize. Without that, I don’t know where we would be.”

  “What are you saying?” It was unlike hi
s uncle to be so vague.

  Terren sighed. “I’m tired of this, Cleve. I was never like Abith. I never aspired to lead the Academy, but it’s what I had to do. And I’m damn good at it.”

  “You are, so why are you talking like this?”

  Terren looked at Cleve’s face as if he hadn’t seen it in years. “There’s more to life than fighting. I know it doesn’t seem that way right now, but there is.” He looked ahead for a while before speaking again. “You haven’t been sitting with Reela or Effie when I’ve seen you in the dining hall. What happened?”

  “Reela and I…had a disagreement.” She protected a murderer.

  “How long has this disagreement come between you two?”

  “A while.” This didn’t seem the time or place to discuss it, but Cleve wasn’t about to tell Terren to be quiet.

  “More than a day?”

  “More than a week.” Closer to a month.

  Terren’s eyes bulged. “You can’t let a disagreement split you apart. Do you still love her?”

  “Terren, please.” Cleve felt uncomfortable. Never had his uncle pressed him this way.

  Terren paused and rubbed his chin. Hoping his uncle was considering dropping the topic, Cleve decided to push him toward that decision.

  “Leave it alone.”

  But Terren shook his head. “I can’t. Go speak with her. There’s still time.”

  Cleve kept walking beside Terren.

  “At least tell her you love her.”

  “We’ll just argue.”

  Cleve had tried making amends with Reela, but the topic of Sanya always came up. Reela was steadfast in her beliefs. “We aren’t Death,” she’d told him several times. “We don’t choose who lives and dies, unless we must defend ourselves.”

  She wanted Cleve to apologize, but she was the one who was wrong.

  She won’t accept that sometimes people need to die in order to save others.

  Cleve had asked her, “What would you do if you had the chance to kill Tauwin? If he lives, he’ll continue this war until thousands die.”

  “You mean if he cannot be captured?” Reela had asked.

  “Yes. You only have one chance to stop him, and it means killing him.” Like with Sanya. We might’ve missed our only chance. Cleve couldn’t let go of his anger at Reela for stopping him. Even Effie agreed with him, and she was Reela’s closest friend.

  “I don’t know, Cleve. I might kill him, but I might not.”

  Every time he remembered the conversation, he felt more anger building on top of the layers of rage he’d buried deep within himself. Reela hadn’t known Alex like he had. If Effie had been murdered instead, Reela…

  No, she still wouldn’t advocate killing Sanya! Reela’s as stubborn as a mule.

  Cleve didn’t care how much Sanya had helped the Academy. Yes, they were finally in a good position, and she had a lot to do with that, but she’d also caused considerable misery. No amount of good deeds would make up for her atrocities.

  The thing that bothered Cleve most was his jealousy of Reela. This righteous path she’d chosen had allowed her to let go of her anger. He knew Reela was trying to help him find peace, but the only thing that would bring Cleve comfort was for Sanya to admit her crimes in front of all the people she’d wronged and then be beheaded as punishment.

  And if Cleve couldn’t make that happen, he would kill her when he had the chance. At least he wanted to. Because of Reela, now he wasn’t sure he could.

  “Go, Cleve,” Terren urged again. “If you can’t make amends, just tell her you love her.”

  Thinking about this had surfaced his rage. He gritted his teeth and spat out, “Stop! Why do you care so much?”

  Terren sighed again, his eyes wet as if he might cry. What the bastial hell was wrong with him? They were marching to battle!

  “Jackrie’s sick,” Terren said, his voice quivering.

  Cleve cursed inwardly. He hadn’t known the extent of Terren’s relationship with the younger mage instructor but had seen enough to know they were close. They would sit with barely an inch between them while eating, smiling at each other as if they shared a secret. On one occasion, Cleve had dropped by unannounced at Terren’s house and found Jackrie there.

  “How sick?” Cleve asked, though he already knew the answer. He could tell by the terrible sadness on his uncle’s face.

  “I don’t think she has more than a few months.”

  “Bastial hell, I’m sorry.” Cleve’s rage drained out of him. “There’s no cure?”

  “None. She has lumps. Opening her up to remove them would kill her anyway.” He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly looking stronger. “You think Reela’s wrong about something, but it sounds like you’ve never considered the possibility that you might be wrong.”

  “Because I’m not. She refuses to accept that sometimes it’s necessary to kill others.”

  Terren took his time before answering. “You should think about which one of you has a better attitude about life and death, war and justice, friendship and love.”

  Terren had a point. Reela was a happier person, always smiling, holding a more positive perspective on life.

  “Think of a warrior who lost his good arm in battle and now can only use his left,” Terren continued. “He tries to learn the sword again, but he becomes impatient with losing to the same swordsmen he used to beat. He can either wallow in his despair and give up, or he can find solace in still having one arm and learn to fight all over again. I know Reela well by now. Not only would she choose the latter, she would be disappointed in anyone who wouldn’t. She expects more out of people than you do, and that gives her a bright outlook toward the future.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s easy to look at reality and say, ‘This is right because this is what happens.’ That’s what we tend to do, Cleve. We face reality with a readiness to fight. There is pride in that, and the world needs people like us. But the world needs people like Reela as well. She dreams of a better reality, and she has the courage to say, ‘This is wrong. This is not what we should be doing.’ You speak about her as if she’s wrong, but maybe she’s just dreaming of something good that you don’t think is possible.” Terren swallowed. “I know because Jackrie’s the same way.”

  Terren was too modest. He always spoke as if his only worth was in swinging his sword at whatever was in front of him, yet whenever Cleve had a problem like this, Terren’s advice was perfect. Reela was a dreamer. Cleve couldn’t stay angry at her for that.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. “And thank you.”

  There were no hills between the capital and the Academy, only mounds that rose and fell fluidly. He and Terren had just climbed to the top of one of those inclines when Cleve turned to look for Reela and was blessed with a view of their entire army. The Group One warriors made up the middle of the first rank, Krepps mixed among them. The creatures had learned to fight with each other and with humans, but Cleve was unsure how well they would protect his kind during the chaos. If he had to choose between a human and a Krepp, he would save a human. The only exception would be Nebre. In that case, Cleve’s choice would be impossible.

  The rest of the warriors of the next highest skill made up the first few rows. It was comforting to recognize all of them. His best allies would be at his back and sides. Behind them were Reela, Vithos, Annah, and a few of the other psychics who’d proven their ability in battle already. Unlike the warriors, the psychics were spread out among the army. They were too strong and too few to waste by grouping them together. The less skilled psychics, however, were in the back with chemists who had little to no battle experience. They would be safer back there, and hopefully some would feel brave enough to come forward and engage their enemies.

  If Tauwin’s troops found a way to reach the Academy’s forces at the back, this could spell doom for the whole army. The formation would have to be broken, and even a good leader like Terren would have no hope of reorganizing everyone. This was t
he only way they could lose. Unfortunately, being outnumbered as they were, this was too likely a possibility for Cleve to feel at ease.

  Many of the mages were in back with the archers, but Effie and the others at the top of their class were closer to the front, guarding the flanks. Their fireballs would drive their enemies to the middle like a funnel of fire.

  There were some archers, like Cleve and Peter, who had brought both a bow and a sword. Terren could move them to a different position to focus on shooting instead of charging. It all depended on the enemy’s formation.

  Tauwin’s troops weren’t very skilled, but it seemed as if his officers and commanders knew as much about battle as Terren did. They would use their numbers as an advantage.

  When Cleve reached Reela, she smiled as if she knew he was there to make amends.

  “I understand now,” Cleve said. “You believe in a world you want to live in, where people don’t need to kill each other.”

  “And where people can forgive each other,” she added, nodding.

  “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be in this dream world with you. My dreams are chaos, and I’m the only one who can make them right. I need to force peace—with my sword or bow—or it never happens.”

  “It’s one of the things I admire and respect about you.” She took his hands. Her green eyes, as bright as sartious energy, twinkled with sadness. “But I can’t be with you if you don’t admire me and respect me in the same way.”

  “I lost sight of what was important, and I didn’t allow myself to understand your viewpoint.”

  “We don’t always have to agree,” Reela said.

  “Good, because I’m not sure if I can when it comes to Sanya.”

  She laughed, then leaned into him for a hug. The rest of their army walked around them, Cleve paying them no mind. He’d longed for this closeness for weeks, never forgetting how complete it made him feel.

  “I’m sorry,” he said when they finally parted. “I have to return to the front. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”