Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5)

by Narro, B. T.

  Lisanda had told him that there was a young woman a few years ago who went missing. After months they found her in a man’s home. She’d been held captive in his basement, raped every day. When Lisanda heard what happened, she demanded that her father invite the poor woman and her family to the palace. The monster of a man was hung, but no punishment given to him was enough to make up for what he’d done.

  When Lisanda shared with Jek the details that this young woman had shared with her, it evoked the same feelings that his darkness caused him. He never told this to Lisanda; he couldn’t. She spoke of rape as the single most vile and unjust thing in the world. And while Jek genuinely agreed with her—knowing the woman’s predicament was worse than his—he still couldn’t help but see the similarities of their situations.

  Selfishly, he wished he’d never heard of the young woman. It had changed the nature of his interactions with his darkness. He could feel himself slowly breaking from the powerless feeling of being unable to fight back. Already, he’d had many nightmares in which he’d done nothing but weep at the sight of his darkness as he coiled into a ball. Those nights, he’d awoken crying with thoughts of suicide—not close, yet not so far, either.

  He cursed himself. The tears were coming now as he remembered that very same hopeless feeling. He felt his knees getting weak. His chin had fallen to his chest as he held his face, but he would not dissolve into a puddle in the dirt. He would stay standing.

  Could it really be almost over? Would his darkness finally leave him alone?

  He could feel their silent stares, waiting for him to say something. But his throat was too busy holding down sobs.

  “I don’t understand,” Calvon said. “Why are you crying?”

  Reela pressed close for an embrace. With both arms around him, she rubbed his back. “Why aren’t I sensing pure joy?” she whispered. “You know this is your cure, right?”

  Then his strength fell out of him, sending him to his knees. His hope of maintaining his composure was completely gone. All around him, he knew people were staring. None of them understood or ever would. He wanted to shout at them for judging him. You don’t know true suffering. Hunger is nothing compared to my darkness. He couldn’t even feel the joy he knew was in his heart. Anger, shame, and the feeling of being misunderstood enclosed it.

  He was alone.

  As he wept, he couldn’t speak. Reela came down on her knees and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “It’s alright,” she said. “There’s no need to worry about it anymore. We’ll help you grow and maintain the evesal until you can manage it on your own. Soon, you won’t ever have to suffer through your darkness again.”

  As her hand caressed his back, and the thought of falling asleep cuddled with Lisanda came to his thoughts, his mouth opened in a smile and joy finally came. In a blink, it overwhelmed him.

  “Thank you,” he muttered, tears still staining his cheeks but now for the opposite reason.

  “Thank Cleve,” Reela said. “He wasn’t about to come back without first scouring Ovira for a cure to your darkness.”

  Reela helped Jek to his feet.

  “Luckily, I didn’t have to look very far,” Cleve said humbly.

  Jek hugged the big man. “Thank you. This is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. To think about how little time we spent together, yet you still understood the torment I constantly go through…” His damn emotions, again he was crying too hard to speak. He parted from Cleve, then swallowed hard and forced out, “I’ll never forget this.”

  There was so much more he wanted to say, but he simply couldn’t. Reela had her hand over her chest as she watched, but she dropped it as she came close to embrace him once more.

  “Is everyone staring?” Jek whispered to her as he caught his breath. He was too embarrassed to look for himself.

  “Just Calvon. But I think once you see his face, you’ll stop worrying.”

  Jek checked to find his friend wearing a silly grin. Calvon even looked on the verge of crying. His expression held joy like a puppy, with most of his smile found in his big eyes.

  “I can’t believe I just witnessed the Sartious mage receiving a cure to his darkness,” Calvon said.

  It was difficult to remember Calvon knew so much about him before they met. After Calvon’s initial shock and questions, they’d barely shared a conversation about anything besides skunks, the forest, or food.

  “But where are you going to plant it?” Calvon asked. “No sunlight gets into the bunker. And nothing planted outside will be safe.”

  Bastial hell, he’s right, Jek thought. Surprisingly, Reela looked even more disappointed than Jek felt. Her shoulders dropped as she let out a discouraged murmur. “You can’t plant it here?”

  The need to console her came over him. He put his hand on her back this time. “If I can’t find a place for it to grow while I’m here, I will once we’re done.”

  “Hopefully, that will be soon,” Cleve said.

  It made Jek realize how many questions he still had. “And why do you think that?”

  Cleve started walking again, gesturing for Jek to walk beside him. “For now, I’m going to ask that we don’t speak about Fatholl. There is something I know that you don’t want to know yet.”

  That stopped Jek and Calvon. “No,” Jek said. “You can’t say that and expect me not to be curious.”

  “You can be curious,” Cleve said. “So long as you trust me.”

  “That depends,” Jek said. “What do you hope to accomplish here in Greenedge?”

  It made Jek uneasy when Cleve shared a look with Reela and Vithos before turning back. “Why don’t I start at the beginning and tell you everything that happened back in Ovira?”

  Jek felt rude for not asking. How could he forget about Cleve’s war? And what of the Elf who had come with him last time? Where was he? Vithos looked similar to Rek, but he was clearly very different. He had no scar, and he didn’t speak common tongue fluently.

  “Why did Rek choose not to come this time?”

  Vithos and Reela’s gazes fell. Cleve’s face went sour. “He died in combat. He was Vithos’ brother and Reela’s half-brother.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Calvon peeked around Jek. “I’m sorry as well.”

  “I suppose returning to Ovira with Rek is a good place to start my story,” Cleve said.

  By the time they reached the bunker, the sun had nearly set, and Cleve had just finished describing their experiences at the docks when they’d sailed back to Goldram.

  “And what happened when you got to the palace?” Jek asked, when it seemed as if Cleve wanted to say no more.

  “It’s best if we save that for another day.”

  Chapter 22:

  CLEVE

  Thousands of men gathered at the base of the mountainside. They were all dressed in armor, none wearing metal, but they looked formidable nonetheless, dirty, tired, and hungry, but ready to fight.

  “I’m going to go ahead to make sure there’s not another near battle between our armies,” Jek said.

  Calvon jogged with him. “I’m coming with you.”

  “We should go, too.” Vithos looked to Reela. His common tongue was slowly improving. Cleve had joined Reela in correcting Vithos when they weren’t busy in conversation with others.

  “I’d rather you stayed here,” Reela said. “Let Klaiya speak for us.”

  Reela had learned to trust the tall Elven woman long before Cleve had, but he’d come around during their trip to Lake Mercy. The confidence in her voice set his mind at ease. The only time he’d seen her panic was earlier that day—when she’d come under attack by the frogs before they realized they were allies. Cleve figured it was unlikely the same thing would occur now. So he was surprised when he heard shouts of aggression from the front.

  The caravan stretched hundreds of yards. Thousands of pounds of food were stocked in crates and barrels on the connecting platforms. Men had gathered around at its front. From what Cleve
could see, they were pushing and yelling at each other.

  Reflexively, Cleve sprinted forward. “Reela, stay back,” he said over his shoulder as she and Vithos followed.

  Anger crossed her face. “You promised you wouldn’t do that, and you’ve already done it twice!”

  “No, I promised I would try.”

  She caught up with him. “Then try harder.”

  Cleve didn’t know if he’d ever be capable of ignoring his instincts to keep Reela safe. He could feel her pride suffering as she and Vithos ran beside him. He wanted to explain himself, but there wasn’t time to focus on anything else as he strained to hear what was being shouted.

  “Back away!” It looked like the officer who had attacked Klaiya was screaming at his own men. “Back away, back away, back away!”

  The men were close to the caravan. As Cleve ran closer, he could see their threatening glares.

  “You’ll be fed!” the officer screamed.

  “There’s so much food,” a man argued back. “Just open a crate for us here.”

  “If you try it, you’ll die.” The officer pointed his sword. “We’re bringing this food inside, all of it. We’ll distribute it during mealtime.”

  “To the officers,” someone shouted.

  “While we get the same mush and are forced to skip lunch,” another added.

  A chorus of shouts suddenly battled against each other, too many for Cleve to decipher. He was hesitant to push through to the middle of it, knowing Reela and Vithos would follow. So he watched from the outer rim where thousands of hooded Elves muttered to each other in Elvish, unaware how to defuse the growing anger of so many thousands of men.

  Cleve found Klaiya standing just in front of the caravan. Taller than nearly every man around her, she raised her arms and screamed for quiet. But even her psyche didn’t appear to be enough, as only half of those near her stopped to listen. In just a breath, they were back to shouting. One man grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the caravan. She stumbled and fell into the sea of green tunics.

  Cleve couldn’t stand back any longer. He rushed in, shouldering past Elves who seemed stunned by what was happening. As he moved closer, it became clear that everyone in the chaos had chosen a side. They either were protecting the food or ready to fight for it. Soon there would be blood.

  After checking to make sure Reela was safe behind him, Cleve went deeper into the crowd to look for Klaiya. He came to the spot where he’d seen her fall, but he could barely see the ground. He heard a woman’s scream ahead. He saw a gap between bodies with men looking down at whatever was there.

  Barreling through, he first noticed Klaiya’s long pale legs, as her dress had been caught up around her knees. She thrashed and shouted as two men searched her pockets with their knees on her shoulders. Another man, this one with long hair and a bow on his back, was trying to shove them off her, screaming at his own men to get off before he shot them.

  But a shriek Cleve recognized as Reela’s spun him around. Someone had grabbed her from behind. With his arms around her stomach, the man was carrying her farther from the caravan, deeper into the crowd.

  Cleve pushed through to follow, but men didn’t take kindly to his shoves, and soon they were grabbing his arms.

  “He’s got a Bastial steel sword!” someone yelled, reaching for it.

  Cleve elbowed the man in his chest. He then swung around and slammed his fist into the chin of someone holding his left arm and broke free. He didn’t see Vithos. But he did find Reela fall to the ground as the man carrying her screamed in agony and let her go. Reela must’ve pained him with psyche.

  Cleve fought his way through to find her on the ground just like Klaiya. But someone already was helping her up. While Calvon was getting Reela on her feet, Cleve looked around, ready to protect her, yet no one seemed interested anymore. All eyes were focused behind Cleve at the caravan.

  He looked over his shoulder to find frogs had jumped on the platforms and swarmed the crates. Others were pulling them down so they fell into the clamoring crowd. More jumped up to help.

  The blast of a trumpet split the air. Cleve turned toward the mountainside where the bunker was located. Filling one of the paths leading up to it was a group of archers all aiming at the caravan.

  “You’ll be shot and killed if you don’t get off!” shouted Raymess Takary, standing amid the archers.

  Half of the ravagers stopped and jumped off. But they looked back at those still there, clearly considering going back.

  Arrows impaled no less than ten men who’d refused to listen. Immediately, everyone else hurried off the caravan.

  “Move away from it!” Raymess demanded.

  The men obeyed, pushing into each other to make space. Cleve had his arm around Reela as her hand reached up to hold his.

  “What did that man want with you?” Cleve asked.

  “I don’t know. I pained him before I could find out.”

  “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” Cleve hadn’t gotten enough of a look.

  “No. I never saw his face.”

  “Be careful,” Calvon warned. “Many of these men haven’t seen a woman in a long time, especially one who looks…well, like you do.”

  Raymess descended the path as he shouted. “Everyone bring the food inside! Anyone caught taking anything will be killed!”

  It took the better part of an hour before the crowd had completely cleared. Cleve recognized Micah Vail standing beside Raymess as they spoke in whispers and regarded Klaiya and her Elves. She cautiously approached, but Raymess held out his palm. “Wait there.” Instead, he waved Jek over.

  The long-haired man Cleve had seen helping Klaiya during her fall came to Calvon’s other side. His name was Peter; Calvon introduced him to Cleve, Reela, and Vithos.

  Peter couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from Klaiya. She straightened the twists in her coarse brown hair as she spoke with an Elf who Cleve didn’t know by name, just that he was her brother.

  “Did anything happen to Klaiya earlier?” Cleve asked Peter.

  “So you saw her dragged into the thick of things?”

  “And I saw you helping her, but I couldn’t get there before I was pulled away.”

  “She wasn’t hurt, and she seems strong. I doubt it affected her.” Peter watched her with what Cleve perceived to be reverence. He didn’t understand it. Had she used psyche to get this reaction?

  Reela and Vithos chuckled to each other as they had their own conversation about Klaiya and Peter.

  “You know what all this food means,” Calvon said, his tone foreboding.

  Peter sighed and finally looked away from Klaiya. “You’re right.”

  So they were smart enough to realize what Fatholl already had predicted: With enough food for weeks, Goldram and Zav’s army would face a full-force attack by their enemies.

  “We’re here to protect you,” Cleve informed them. Goldram and Zav cannot fall. Those were Fatholl’s words, and one of the many statements he’d uttered to Cleve, Reela, and Vithos that convinced them he was more of an ally than an enemy. Cleve had never known someone to be both at once, and still this confused him, scared him. He couldn’t deny there was a chance he was just a prop in Fatholl’s grand play.

  “But Klaiya said she serves Fatholl,” Calvon questioned. “Does this mean Fatholl has now joined Goldram and Zav against Waywen and Presoren?”

  Cleve chose his words carefully. “We don’t serve Fatholl. We share the same goals and agree with his orders. If that ever changes, we’re free to leave or even turn against him.”

  “Are you speaking for you three or for all the Elves?” Calvon asked.

  Reela stepped in front of Cleve to face Calvon and Peter. “We could never speak for all the Elves. Most of them reside in Meritar. So any of the Elves you see here have been exiled or left by choice. Either way, they’re never allowed to return because of the difference in their beliefs. Psyche is outlawed in Meritar. And so are Humans. I’d be con
sidered an abomination.” She shook her head in disgust. “They would kill me and my Elven father if he weren’t already dead.”

  Peter took his eyes away from Reela to set them on Klaiya once again. “I think the ears are beautiful.”

  A smile broke across Reela’s lips. “You do know there’s no chance?”

  Cleve was confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s hopelessly lusting after Klaiya,” Reela said. She, Vithos, and even Calvon laughed. Cleve realized his earlier mistake. It wasn’t reverence but desire he’d heard in Peter’s tone.

  “How do you already know about Peter’s feelings?” Calvon wondered, still laughing.

  “Psyche,” Vithos answered. “He want her more than starving man want food.”

  Peter raised an eyebrow at them. “Is she married or something? Do Elves even get married?”

  “They do,” Reela informed him. “And no, she isn’t married. But I’ve spoken to Klaiya about men. She’ll crush your heart.”

  “Why do you say that?” Peter asked dubiously.

  “Even if you somehow get in her good graces, she’ll be too busy for you.”

  “There’s no such thing as too busy for love.”

  Cleve couldn’t help but burst into laughter with everyone else. Peter’s tone was poetic and utterly serious. It was the most absurd thing Cleve had heard in a long time, not so much the statement itself but the confident cadence of his words and his thirsty eyes drinking her in.

  Probably through psyche, or simply because she heard them laughing, Klaiya turned. Her head tilted, then she started over.

  “Oh, I look forward to this,” Calvon muttered.

  Peter came toward her. With a shocking lack of fear, he bowed and gracefully glided his hand, cupping the air to push it past his hip in a gesture Cleve wasn’t familiar with. For all he knew, Klaiya wasn’t either. Her slight smile and crinkled brow gave her a look of amused bewilderment.

  “Are you the one who helped me?” she asked bluntly, her voice revealing no gratitude.