Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5)

by Narro, B. T.

  Micah regarded her with an unreadable expression. He had a face made for playing cards. “Will any harm come to the surviving Takarys or any of Goldram’s citizens with whatever Fatholl has planned?”

  “That’ll be up to Raymess,” Reela answered.

  “What does that mean?” Jek asked.

  But Micah lightly placed his hand on Jek’s shoulder to turn him. “It means there’s a right answer and a wrong answer that Raymess can give. Come on, Jek. Let’s go make sure he gives the right answer.”

  Although the young mage still seemed confused, he followed Micah without reluctance and joined Raymess, Tobkin, and the officers where they waited, too far away to be heard.

  Chapter 32:

  JEK

  Raymess soon made a decision. He would hear why the Elves believed Waywen and Presoren would become allies with Goldram and Zav. “And depending on what the Elves say,” the King added spitefully, “they might not be leaving Lake Mercy alive. Make sure the men are organized for battle,” he instructed his officers. “But don’t attack unless I say so.” He strode quickly toward Klaiya, looking almost as if he hoped she would say something that would spark conflict.

  For two steps, Jek chased after the young monarch. But he stopped when he realized there was nothing he could say to calm Raymess. Although Raymess was Lisanda’s older brother, right now none of that mattered. He was the sovereign over every man here. Jek’s gesture would be utterly disrespectful. And from the way Klaiya lowered her head as he approached, it seemed that even the Elves knew they needed to act subordinate.

  “Thank you for speaking with me,” she began. “I understand there’s confusion after seeing us aid your enemies in escaping.”

  “There’s been confusion since the moment you came here with food,” Raymess spat back. “Aiding our enemies has only made things more clear. Out of respect for the help you’ve provided, you’re still standing here. But that could change in an instant. If you value your safety, it might be wise for you to leave without saying anything.”

  “Can you talk with him?” Jek whispered to Micah.

  “Look at his eyes. My approach would just insult him.”

  Whatever Micah saw in the King’s eyes, Jek didn’t. He just saw an angry man with too much power, a sight he’d seen more than enough for one lifetime.

  Klaiya stood tall and confident, forcing Raymess to look up at her if their gazes were to meet. But he refused to lift his head. He twisted it sideways and glared from the corners of his eyes.

  “Events have been set in motion that cannot be undone,” Klaiya announced loudly, no doubt meant for the ears of every man rallied behind Raymess. “The war of man can be over if you and the other leaders let it be.” As if surprised by a sudden foul odor, she stepped back with a grimace. “But you and many of your men aren’t ready for it to end. You’d rather destroy your enemies than have them join your ranks. Don’t you see the trouble with that? There will be no peace this way.”

  “I don’t know what you think you can sense, Elf, but you know nothing about us,” Raymess said. “For too long my men have fought, starved, seen their comrades killed, and lived in insufferable misery. No one wants this war to end more than they do. But what you’re proposing is idiotic. Neither we nor our enemies are ready for peace. You can’t simply call someone an ally and make it so.”

  “I see my mistake now. You’re not eager for more war; you’re eager to kill those who’ve opposed you. The need for blood burns within you and your men. But to wish for the end of war in addition to the death of your enemies is to wish for both night and day at the same time. You can’t hope for both. You must choose: peace or war, vengeance or progress.” She looked hard at Raymess, daring him to oppose her. “You must decide between a peaceful future or complete obliteration.”

  Micah whispered a curse.

  “What?” Jek asked.

  “His emotions are going to make him choose obliteration.” Before Micah finished speaking, he started toward Raymess and Klaiya. “How do you plan to stop the war?” he asked Klaiya just as Raymess opened his mouth in all likelihood to scream.

  “I can handle this,” Raymess snapped.

  Micah stopped. “Forgive me, my king.” He shot Klaiya a knowing look. “I was confused because the Elf keeps speaking in riddles. Perhaps if she clearly stated her intent, I would understand better what she was still doing here.”

  “A fine statement,” Raymess said, shifting his scowl to the tall Elven woman. “Whatever it is, get it out. What does Fatholl have planned?”

  “Your men aren’t ready to hear it.” She spoke with a sad tone that pleaded for their sympathy and understanding.

  It was becoming too dark to see their expressions. Jek aimed his wand and bathed them in light. For a breath, everyone turned to him. But as they all realized his intent, their focused returned to Raymess and Klaiya.

  Yet the brief distraction had changed the atmosphere in a palpable way. Everyone was tired, thirsty, and hungry. It was now clear everyone was eager for this day to end. Perhaps there could be peace after all.

  “Tell us what we want to know, Klaiya,” Raymess said in a voice finally void of emotion—a blissful relief to Jek.

  “The desmarls are coming from the north and south,” she said, to Jek’s amazement. “They’ll be in northern Zav and southern Presoren in less than a month.”

  That can’t be possible. Jek felt insulted Klaiya would tell such an obvious lie. Maybe a child would believe a statement as absurd as that, but no amount of psyche could convince any sane man that after hundreds of years the desmarls would suddenly start rushing toward the center of the continent.

  “You Elves must not think too highly of us Humans,” Raymess said. “Perhaps you imagined that we’d believe your lies with psyche? Well, it didn’t work. Now, you can either leave, or we can—”

  “It’s true,” Reela interrupted, coming forward to stand beside Klaiya. Jek dreaded the way Raymess glared at her maliciously. Who would I fight against if a battle broke out? “I’m sorry for interrupting,” she said, leaning away from the King’s stare. “But I thought the opinion of someone not from Greenedge would be valuable. I have nothing to gain by lying. My home is not on this continent. And I can say with confidence that Klaiya is right. The desmarls are coming.”

  “They tell the truth, my king,” Micah said, “though all that means is that they truly believe the desmarls are coming. Perhaps Fatholl has tricked them.”

  “Yes, that sounds right,” Raymess agreed. “What has Fatholl told you to convince you of this?”

  With pressed lips, Klaiya looked to be holding in anger. “I’ve known Fatholl since the beginning of all this. I’ve planned with him. We—together—have worked with chemists to develop a strong odor that desmarls detest. Thousands of Elves have taken this substance to the northern and southern ends of Greenedge, so as to be behind the monsters. There, they pulled the corks on their vials to let the putrid smell fill the air. The desmarls have come toward the center of the continent to avoid the stench, and our men and women have followed them, continuing the desmarls on their path into your territories, your enemies’ territories, and even Chanren to the west. The desmarls are coming because we’re making them come.”

  The crowd behind Raymess clamored, gesticulating with their swords.

  “What in the Bastial hell are you thinking?” Raymess yelled. “Do you mean to kill all Humans?”

  “The opposite. We’re saving them!” Klaiya screamed to be heard over the hostile men. “Please,” she pleaded, “it’s late and becoming very dark. There are men among your ranks who are close to engaging in combat with us. I don’t feel safe keeping my army out here. May I suggest we continue this discussion behind closed doors?”

  “Neither you nor any of your followers are going back into the fort until you explain everything to my satisfaction. I’ll handle my men.” Raymess spun and raised his arms. The troops fell silent. “I’m giving all of you a choice! You can g
o to the fort, enjoy our victory, and prepare for a feast, or you can stay here and keep quiet!”

  Except for those in the front, Jek couldn’t make out any of the men’s faces. He watched the shadowed crowd as it murmured and shifted but ultimately didn’t move. Jek thought the offer of a feast would’ve stopped a frog in the middle of a swordfight. Perhaps it would, but nothing is going to tear them away from this.

  “Many still wish to attack us,” Klaiya said.

  “Then give them a reason not to. Tell us why pushing the desmarls into civilization is somehow going to save us.”

  “Being saved or killed is up to you and the other Humans. You may not know that Fatholl’s army has grown to the largest in Greenedge.” She pushed out her hands. “But all we wish to fight are the desmarls, not Humans. However, even with all the psychics, swordsmen, archers, and mages that we have, it would still take years to exterminate every last monster. We are a small minority compared to every able-bodied Human. Together, we can end the threat of the desmarls in two months or less…end it for good. We’ve sent the desmarls here to force everyone to make the right decision. Let’s join our armies and kill them!”

  “You Elves are mad!” Raymess shouted. “Absolutely mad. Fatholl murdered my father. I’ll never let him join me, no matter the purpose. Never!”

  “Fatholl won’t fight the desmarls unless he has everyone’s support. We’ll drive them into your towns where they’ll kill everyone. And when it’s done, we’ll leave without the slightest guilt. In a hundred years, they’ll be here anyway. The desmarls are breeding and coming closer and closer. They need food, and Humans will do nicely, especially when you’re all busy fighting each other.”

  “This is outlandish. I can’t negotiate with insanity,” Raymess said.

  “We already have the support of every king to the west, in Chanren. The desmarls threaten them in the exact same way they threaten the east. Now we just need Goldram, Zav, Waywen, and Presoren. After you agree, you can go back to your palace in The Nest.”

  Raymess laughed. “And Fatholl will simply leave before we get there?”

  “He’ll wish to speak with you first to ensure you still mean to fight with us. But after that—yes, he’ll leave. He’ll send Elves south, where he’ll force Presoren’s army to make the same agreement. Meanwhile, the two thousand with me will split, half to Zav and the other half to Waywen. We don’t have much time before the desmarls get here. Everyone must agree and prepare their troops. We’ll come together with Chanren and—”

  “Stop, stop.” Raymond fluttered his hand, making a face as if Klaiya’s words had been a terrible noise he’d been forced to endure. “Insanity, that’s all this is. I can’t even listen to it. You need to leave. Take your Elves and the wicked men who you’ve somehow convinced to join you and go.”

  Klaiya took in air violently. Within her eyes was the rage of an entire storm. She made no attempt to speak, just glared at Raymess.

  For an unnervingly long moment, both sides watched each other with quiet trepidation.

  “Go,” Raymess said. “Or we’ll kill you.”

  “What are your plans for Fatholl?” She took a brave step toward him, then gasped. “You want to kill him! Can't you see this is the worst choice you—”

  “Archers!” Raymess called. “Prepare your arrows.” The sounds of arrows nocking rustled through the army. “If this Elf—”

  “Stop!” Klaiya interrupted. “You must listen to me.”

  “If this Elf says another word,” Raymess continued, “shoot her.”

  Jek had been so distracted watching the men who shared Raymess’ anger that he hadn’t given himself a chance to figure out his own thoughts on the matter. The realization jolted him—thousands of others are in the same position as I am. They’re waiting to see what Raymess and his enraged supporters will do.

  It took less than the span of a breath for him to realize he trusted Klaiya. He ran between her and Raymess, careful to keep the light from his wand on them.

  “Don’t shoot them!” he yelled, taking a quick glance at Raymess to find shock. “If Klaiya was lying, Micah would say so. Just like all of you, this is the first I’ve heard of any of this. And just like you, I had the same anger and confusion when these Elves and Humans stopped us from chasing after the skunks. But now it’s clear. They aren’t our enemies.”

  “They killed your king!” Raymess screamed with rage. “I thought you cared about my father. Yet now you join his murderers? You disgust me. If it weren’t for Lisanda, you’d be dead already. I’ll let you live so long as I never see you again, traitor. You’ll be leaving with them…dying with them if they don’t go this instant.”

  “Please, Raymess—my king,” Jek corrected himself. “Try to suppress your anger for just a moment and listen to what they’re saying. The desmarls are coming. Chanren already has agreed to fight. They need your army—”

  “And Zav, Waywen, and Presoren will fight with us as well,” Klaiya added. “We’re just trying to exterminate the desmarls, nothing more.”

  Peter emerged from the dark sea of men to stand at Jek’s side. “They’re trying to help us and everyone else.” He regarded the army behind Raymess. “Let down your weapons and let her finish describing the plan!”

  As murmurs came from the crowd, Raymess seemed to sense that some of his men were changing their minds. He spun and pointed at them. “Don’t listen to this nonsense. Those of you from Zav, they killed your king as well. Are you going to support that? Answer me!”

  “No,” the crowd called back.

  “We needed to take control from the eastern territories and disrupt the war,” Klaiya said. “It ensured—” She aimed her palm, and someone screamed as he fell. “Don’t shoot at me!” Klaiya yelled.

  Jek aimed his light over the frogs to find countless archers about to fire. Some dropped their weapons, screaming, but there were too many for the Elves to stop. Jek made a Sartious wall in front of him and Klaiya. Arrows pattered against it. Suddenly swordsmen were dashing toward him.

  “Stop, we’re leaving!” Klaiya yelled.

  “Halt,” Raymess called, and his men curbed their aggression. “Because these Elves brought us food and fought with us, we must let them leave so long as they keep their foolish mouths shut while they do so.”

  Klaiya nodded, though she turned to look deeply into Jek’s eyes. The thought of food and the Elves’ belongings entered his mind.

  “To force them to leave without food would be the same as killing them,” Jek said. “Please at least allow them to get their belongings and a few sacks of the food that they brought here.”

  “They’re not going back into the fort,” Raymess said. “They’ll have to wait here as we bring food to them.”

  “And their bags?”

  “No,” Raymess said, refusing to offer an explanation. “And you and Peter are leaving with them.”

  “You’re a fool,” Peter spewed at the King.

  Jek’s heart raced. What is that idiot thinking? “My king, please,” he said, “just because I believe Klaiya doesn’t mean I no longer fight for you.”

  Raymess shook his head at Jek, ignoring Peter. “You don’t just believe Klaiya. You believe in her. You believe in this absurd plan that involves Fatholl accumulating every army. Of course he wants us all under his control. You’re mad to think he means to rid the continent of desmarls and then leave. It’s absurd. He could’ve just as easily tricked Klaiya so that she wouldn’t be able to lie for him. Maybe the desmarls are actually coming, and maybe he does plan to kill them, but there’s no way to know for sure. What happens when all of us are gathered together? Fatholl’s army is filled with psychics. Who knows what they could do to our minds? We could all end up killing each other. You’re stupid to trust him, and I would be foolish to trust you any longer.”

  Raymess turned and yelled as he walked, “Everyone back in the fort. Guard the entrance. Don’t let any of these Elves or traitors inside.”

  �
�Raymess, my cure,” Jek called after him. “It’s in my bag in Micah’s quarters.”

  “Why should I care?”

  Jek looked to Micah. The adviser just had the same sad look that he’d worn throughout the entire exchange. “Can Micah get it for me?” Jek asked.

  “No, and if Micah so much as speaks one word to you, then he’s leaving as well.” Raymess continued on without even looking at Micah.

  Jek kept his eyes on his friend, waiting for him to offer some solution to this dilemma. If there was an answer, Micah would know it. He always did.

  But the adviser looked lost in that moment, glancing between Jek and Raymess, who was quickly disappearing into the night. When Micah turned his back without a word, the feeling of despair almost made Jek collapse.

  “I need my cure!” he pleaded. “Please!”

  Neither Raymess nor Micah would turn back for even a glance.

  Jek fell to his knees. A hand came over his shoulder that he somehow knew belonged to Reela.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Klaiya came in front of him and helped him up.

  “What do we do now?” Reela asked her.

  Klaiya shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 33:

  JEK

  “Did you bring any other evesal seeds besides those in the pouch you gave me?” Jek asked Cleve, though he already knew the answer.

  “That was all I had,” Cleve said. “I’m sorry.”

  Jek wanted to be strong, but he felt like a tattered shirt, and now the last thread that held him together had been snipped in half. He couldn’t even walk. His body dissolved into a puddle in the dirt.

  “Come on, Jek.” Cleve grabbed his arm and lifted him with ease. Somehow he was walking again, Cleve’s broad arm offering support. “I know it’s a hundred times harder to lose something you’ve just acquired than to never receive it in the first place. But we’ll get more seeds.”

  “When are you going back to Ovira?” Jek asked.