Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5)

by Narro, B. T.

  Klaiya and Reela clung to each other for balance, but Jek found it easier on his own. He didn’t like worrying about keeping an Elf on her feet, even if it meant she might help him stay on his.

  Without light, it took them a full hour to reach the entrance. Jek allowed the women to take the lead, knowing they could use psyche to sense the presence of others.

  Others…what were they now? Enemies? He found it easier to continue thinking of them as frogs, even if he was no longer a frog himself.

  “Just one guard,” Klaiya whispered. “We’re going to try putting him to sleep. We need to get as close as possible. Stay here.”

  As Jek waited for them to return, he stared back down the path, trying to recall what the ground felt like and where the turns were sharpest. It might be useful later as he made his escape, allowing him to run without slipping off the path and falling to his death.

  No, he couldn’t run. But as long as he was faster than his pursuers, he could escape.

  “Catch him!” he heard one of the women whisper. It was followed by sounds of a scuffle, then more whispers.

  The urge to go to the women entered his mind. Figuring it was psyche, he listened. Klaiya and Reela were moving a frog to the edge of the entrance. They sat him against the wall, and his head slumped to his chest.

  “Reela will keep him asleep,” Klaiya whispered. “Let’s get the horses.”

  One sconce halfway down the hall made the bunker barely lighter than outside. Jek followed just behind Klaiya, careful to keep his hasty footsteps as quiet as possible. They turned and followed the stone tunnel to the stables, where a flimsy half-door only slowed them for a heartbeat before they got it open quietly.

  Seffry was asleep on a straw bed. Whenever Jek had come to speak with the large-bellied man, the smell of horse feces always reminded him of the tower with desmarls to which he and Lisanda were taken by men of Waywen.

  Jek moved to Seffry’s side and gently awoke him.

  Seffry grumbled. “Hmm, what’s the matter?”

  Jek waited for him to sit up and recognize him.

  “Jek—”

  “We’re just here for three horses,” he interrupted. “Please stay quiet.” Jek motioned for Klaiya to open the stable doors.

  “You can’t,” Seffry whispered. “I can’t let you.”

  “You’re not letting us,” Jek said. “We snuck in and took them while you were sleeping.”

  “I saw what happened after the battle.” Seffry swung his legs over the bed, motioning to stand.

  “Stay in bed,” Jek told him.

  Seffry stopped. “Raymess is wrong to dismiss the Elves. I don’t agree with the way they’ve gone about all this, but I don’t see much of a choice at this point. Everyone needs to join Fatholl before it’s too late. Will these horses help with that?”

  “Yes. They’re necessary, in fact.”

  “Do you need more than three?”

  Three horses started following Klaiya out of the tunnel. She didn’t have hold of their reins, using an outstretched hand to guide them instead. “Three is all we need. It’s too risky to take more.”

  Seffry pushed himself to his feet. “I have no skill with a sword, but I know horses. Will you take me with you?”

  “We don’t have time to discuss this,” Klaiya said.

  “You could at least use his help getting the horses down the mountain,” Jek said.

  “If I’m leaving this room with you, I’m staying with you until the end.” Seffry’s hard tone came as a shock. “I’m from Vrasl, a small town along the very north edge of Zav. If the desmarls attack, it will be one of the first places to be decimated.”

  “Come, then,” Klaiya whispered. “Just keep quiet and take a horse.”

  “I’ll meet you in the forest,” Jek said.

  As he sped by them, Jek heard Seffry ask Klaiya where he was going. Jek didn’t hear her response as he went deeper into the bunker.

  He moved quickly, his nerves finally catching up to him. His hands shook. For comfort, he took his wand from his belt and gripped it firmly.

  The main tunnel from the entrance led to a corridor with three possible routes. If any men were on watch, it would be here. He just then remembered how useless his wand would be and latched it back onto his belt. His magic might get him past a man or two, but it would wake more in the process.

  His heart threatened to jump from his chest when he heard someone grumbling just around the corner. Turn back. This is madness.

  He started to turn. No. I can’t leave my cure. I’ll never be able to live with myself if I run.

  Keeping as still as possible, Jek strained his ears. Barely, he could hear the man’s breathing. It sounded like he was asleep, though Jek couldn’t be sure without risking a glance.

  He held his breath and peered around the corridor. The guard had tucked his body into a crevice in one wall, curled on his side with his helmet on the ground just in front of his face. Jek started to tiptoe, but his boots squeaked, so he went back to walking flat. Still they pattered with each press and release.

  Bastial hell, I should’ve removed them in the stables.

  Jek froze when he heard the guard stir. He stared at the man and waited for him to sit up. It was going to be all over, but at least Jek could run and make it out. At least he would live.

  The man didn’t lift his head. Now he was dead quiet. Had he even awoken? Jek stood there exposed in the middle of the corridor, waiting for the man to sit up and catch him or for his own heart to calm. But neither happened.

  Jek reasoned that if the man was awake, perhaps he would mistake Jek for a frog. It gave him an idea. He would turn his back and walk casually. Hardly anyone would recognize him from behind if he acted like he belonged there. So he strode through to the next tunnel, resisting the urge to look back.

  He heard nothing and took a breath of relief, then another, then another. He’d been holding his breath without even realizing it.

  As he passed the toilet chambers, he heard someone walk out behind him. For a moment, Jek stopped. He was about to turn to see if he was spotted, but he fought back his reflex.

  Just keep walking casually.

  It worked. He came through another tunnel, then reached stairs. It wouldn’t be long before he was at Micah and Tobkin’s sleeping quarters. He couldn’t imagine Micah restraining him or even calling for the guards, no matter what Raymess had threatened. But Tobkin was different. He’d been in charge here before Raymess arrived, and he had no loyalty to Jek. If Raymess saw Jek as an enemy, so would Tobkin.

  The moment Jek reached the door to Micah’s quarters, he realized how difficult it would be getting through unheard. Like the other doors in the bunker, it didn’t fit snugly into the doorway. It scraped the floor, and its hinges squeaked.

  He grasped the handle and pulled slowly, so slowly. When he heard scraping, he stopped and listened for signs of movement within the room. He heard nothing, so he continued.

  The noise of the door was like a snore but soft and continuous. He tried lifting as he pulled. It seemed to help, changing the tone to be closer to a sharp gust of air.

  His heart felt like it was climbing into his throat. Being so deep within the bunker, he had no plan besides running if things went awry…and I’d never make it out from here.

  Finally, he opened the door just wide enough to slip through the doorway. Barely enough light for him to see shapes followed him in. He could hear Micah and Tobkin breathing.

  Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up, Jek repeated as he crept forward. His footsteps crunched. He cursed himself for never practicing how to walk lightly on his feet.

  One step at a time, he navigated around the table he knew was in the center of the room. Then he carefully lowered himself to his hands and knees. However, it was a grievous error. The recent battle had strained his muscles, causing his arms and legs to shake as he shifted his weight. So he stood back up, but a grunt escaped. He froze.

  Their bre
athing didn’t change.

  Jek crept closer to his bed, dearly hoping no one had moved his bag. Fishing around in the darkness, he felt panic set in as he realized he couldn’t find it.

  They had moved it.

  He weighed his options. He could leave, search the room, or make light.

  He raised his arm and used Bastial Energy to create a faint white glow.

  As details of the room came into view, he actually laughed aloud. It was empty. The shapes of Micah and Tobkin disappeared, and he no longer heard what he thought was their breathing. He laughed even more when he realized it was his own breaths that he’d heard. The two men probably were with Raymess discussing strategy.

  The thought struck him that they could return at any moment. He had to hurry. His bag turned out to be on the table in the middle of the room. Unable to resist, he searched through to make sure the pouch with his evesal seeds was still inside.

  It was.

  Rather than be relieved, he became angry, and he wasn’t even sure why. Perhaps he wanted Raymess to suffer for putting him through this panic and risk. It was unnecessary, malicious even.

  Stop it and get out, reason told him, reminding him how awful he was at sneaking and that he still had to make it back to the entrance of the fort. Now that he was carrying a large bag, the sight of him would be more suspicious, especially as he tried to leave. The anger returned. Getting his cure wasn’t hurting anyone. Damn you, Raymess.

  He left the door open and hurried down the stairs as quietly as he could while still rushing. He felt it was inevitable he’d cross paths with someone, so it was better to go quickly rather than silently.

  But the last person he expected to find him was Raymess.

  Lisanda’s brother came into an empty corridor at the same time as Jek, just a few steps ahead.

  Jek stopped at the sight of him, but then Raymess stopped as well, perhaps curious why the footsteps behind him suddenly had ceased. The King looked over his shoulder, then the rest of his body slowly turned until he faced Jek completely. With the light of a sconce behind Raymess, a veil of shadow fell over his face. All Jek could tell was that his mouth was open.

  “You insolent bastard. You—”

  “Just let me by,” Jek interrupted. “You don’t understand how badly I need this cure. My nightmares have been worsening. They’re going to kill me.”

  “As they should, you traitor!”

  Why did Jek think pleading would get him anywhere? He drew his wand. “Keep quiet, and let me by.”

  “What would Lisanda say about this?” Raymess asked rhetorically. “You can’t believe she’ll stay with you?”

  “She will.” Jek didn’t feel half as confident about Lisanda as he let on. But he was sure of one thing: He would do anything to get by Raymess…and with little guilt. “Stand against the wall.” Jek pointed with his wand. “I’m walking past you, and you’ll keep quiet.”

  To his surprise, Raymess obeyed him. The monarch calmly moved aside, too calmly…unless he was finally realizing it did no harm to let Jek go with his bag. But from the scowl on Raymess’ face, that didn’t seem to be the case.

  “You deserve a much worse punishment than banishment,” he said. “If you get near anyone in my family again, I’ll have your head taken for it.”

  If Jek had a retort, he gladly would’ve given it.

  Raymess had a sword on his belt, and as Jek passed by, he watched the King’s hand. He kept his wand pointed at Raymess’ chest, ready to fire, but Raymess was smart enough to make no motion for his weapon.

  Jek figured he’d given up. Even an enraged man could tell when he’d lost, though this was often when they became the most dangerous, Jek suddenly realized. He wasn’t ten steps past Raymess when he turned, let down his wand, and then immediately regretted it.

  “Stop the traitor!” Raymess boomed. Jek didn’t know he could be so loud. “Stop Jek from leaving!”

  He frantically gathered energy and fired at Raymess. It missed, but the shock of it at least shut him up for the moment as he stared in disbelief that Jek actually had loosed the fireball. Jek turned and sprinted through the tunnels.

  Raymess’ shouts began pulling sleepy, half-naked men from their chambers. Stumbling out into the corridor ahead of Jek, they moved into his path, ten of them. Now twenty. Yet only a few had their eyes on him. The rest muttered questions and spun, unsure where Jek was coming from. None had swords. They held out their hands as if ready to wrestle.

  Without slowing, Jek lowered his shoulder. No one was going to stop him.

  Someone among them started shouting. “Get back! Clear space! Move!” Jek saw that this man had a sword, and he was swinging it wildly at the group.

  Unarmed, the others scrambled away from his blade, falling on top of each other and cursing. It all happened so fast, Jek didn’t know what to make of it. He found himself slowing for a glimpse at the face of the swordsman who seemed to be on his side.

  “Calvon, what are you doing?” Jek yelled.

  “Coming with you.” One frog dared try to take the sword from Calvon’s hand, only to recoil when Calvon pricked his arm. “Don’t stop running!”

  As Jek raced down the next tunnel with Calvon at his side, he could feel frogs just behind them. It invoked the futile feeling of inescapable death he’d become accustomed to from his nightmares. Too many times he’d run from his darkness and failed to escape. His body wanted to betray him; he wanted to turn and face his inevitable demise, unable to stand the chase.

  But as he slowed, Calvon grabbed his arm. “Faster!” he yelled. “And shoot that guard.”

  Ahead of them was the man who’d been sleeping when Jek came through this corridor from the other side. He was up with his helmet on and his sword steady.

  “Stop,” the guard tried, his voice betraying his nerves.

  Jek couldn’t shoot him, not when it was clear he didn’t wish to fight. “Move or die!” Jek warned.

  The guard took one step back but wouldn’t lower his weapon.

  “Shoot him!” Calvon yelled.

  “Move!” Jek screamed at the imbecile.

  Another step back, yet the guard was still in their way…still with his weapon ready.

  Jek finally shot him, making sure to keep the fireball small enough so the man would survive. They were so close, the explosion of heat bounced off his chest and struck Jek, causing him to lurch and start to fall. Calvon tried to grab his shirt without stopping, but their flailing limbs collided and Jek fell to his knees.

  He was up in a heartbeat, but he’d slowed enough for their pursuers to catch them. Calvon thrashed his sword at the lot of them. Those in front tried to slow themselves, but it was dark and chaotic, and countless men behind them collided into their backs. Calvon accidentally cut one man’s shin and then another’s thigh before he stopped swinging.

  The frogs tripped over each other. Jek didn’t stay to watch.

  As he left his pursuers behind, the feeling of being caught slowly drained, causing Jek to hold back tears of joy. Never had he bested his darkness, and while this wasn’t the same thing, it was close enough for him to feel confident that nothing could stop him now. He would get back to Lisanda. He would convince her that Raymess was in the wrong. They would come together against the desmarls. He believed in Klaiya, Cleve, Calvon, Peter and the others. More importantly, he believed in himself—possibly for the first time since the palace takeover. It felt like he’d been stuck in a net and now was finally free.

  He used light to guide them down the mountain. Some frogs still chased them, but none were mages. The path was too dark for them, and they quickly gave up.

  “Were you sleeping in your clothes?” Jek asked Calvon as they were halfway down.

  “Yes, with my sword, too. I knew you would come back, and I wanted to leave with you.”

  “You mean you thought I would come back,” Jek corrected him.

  “No, the moment I heard you pleading with Raymess for your cure, I knew you w
ould return to get it.”

  “I suppose I did as well. But if you wanted to join us, why didn’t you just stay like Peter did?”

  “I wasn’t sure at that moment. But during the feast I couldn’t stop thinking about you two…oh the feast. I’m glad I didn’t miss that. In fact, I have a bit of a stomachache. We ate—”

  “Don’t tell me.”

  Calvon grabbed Jek’s shoulder. “It’s good to be alive.”

  Jek felt the same. After hunting men like animals for weeks, starving, being dirty and fighting in a war that had no point, they were finally on the right course.

  Though, it would’ve been nice to have a feast.

  Damn Raymess.

  Chapter 35:

  CLEVE

  Everyone was overdue for rest. The faint glow of the morning sun was just enough for them to see each other without a mage’s light. Some Elves were lying on their backs at the base of trees, trying to get some sleep. Reela was one of them. She’d always needed more sleep than Cleve, and while the sight of her supple body curled on the grass made him want to curl up with her, he let her be. They were carving out the last details of the modified plan, and he wanted to be able to voice any concerns he might have.

  So far, his biggest fear was Vithos wanting to separate from him and Reela. Vithos, Baylee, and Jek would go south. Cleve and Reela would walk north with Klaiya and everyone else. They would stop in the nearest town, where only Cleve, Reela, and Klaiya would buy horses and continue north while the others waited in town for further instructions. Klaiya would lead Cleve and Reela to Waywen’s castle, where they would convince that army’s leader to join them against the desmarls. Klaiya claimed this would be easy, as the Sartious fog of the desmarls should be visibly approaching from the north by the time their group arrived. If Waywen’s leader still needed some convincing, Cleve and Reela’s outside opinion—being from Ovira—should be all that was necessary to change his mind.

  Klaiya’s brother would take a small group west to Zav’s castle for the same purpose. It looked like the newest member of their army, Calvon, would be part of this group, as his family had ties with the nobility there.