Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5)

by Narro, B. T.

  Vithos, Baylee, and Jek were the only ones going south, and Cleve worried he wouldn’t see them again. He thought it was foolish for Vithos to follow Baylee, but Cleve wasn’t about to voice his concerns. Still, he wished Reela would. He could see she didn’t like the separation, either, yet she must’ve felt the same way as he did, that it was wrong to interfere.

  Figuring out what to do about Raymess was the most difficult. The only thing Klaiya and her brother could agree upon was that Fatholl needed to know they’d failed, and as soon as possible. So Vithos, Baylee, and Jek would ride back to the palace in The Nest to inform him.

  Jek was his usual cheerful and arrogant self when he returned from the bunker with Calvon and his cure. Cleve hadn’t seen this side of him since the last time he’d been in Greenedge. While he welcomed it, Cleve was surprised to hear Jek speak with such disdain toward Raymess. It was as if they’d been enemies for years.

  “Wake everyone up,” Klaiya said. “It’s time to leave.”

  “You can’t use psyche to call them all awake?” Peter asked. For the last half hour, he’d been unsuccessfully trying to convince Klaiya that she should take him to Waywen with her, Cleve, and Reela. This didn’t seem to annoy her, though. Even now, she smiled at him.

  “Just because we’re psychics doesn’t mean we’re mentally connected with each other at every moment. It’s easier to use your voice than psyche to wake someone,” Klaiya told him.

  “Maybe you can teach me some psyche.”

  “I can teach you a lot of things,” she said with a coy grin as she left. She looked over her shoulder. “But I’m not going to.”

  Calvon regarded Peter with a shake of his head. “I hope you didn’t become a turncoat just because of her. You have no chance.”

  “Did you not just hear the same thing I did?” Peter asked. “She thinks I’m adorable.”

  “As much as I’d like to watch you continue to fail with Klaiya,” Jek said, “it looks like we won’t be seeing each other for a while.” He turned to Cleve and offered his hand. “Thank you for bringing the cure and coming with Klaiya. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.”

  Cleve shook Jek’s hand. “Good luck convincing the Takary women to speak with Raymess.”

  Jek nodded and shared goodbyes with Peter and Calvon. Cleve walked over to Reela and brushed the hair back from her cheek. If he looked closely in the right light, sometimes he still could see the slightest outline of her scar, traces of pigment change, a faint line from her cheek to her neck. But it was impossible to notice if he didn’t already know to look for it.

  It was Reela who’d first realized it wasn’t completely gone. She’d used all of the substance Steffen had made for her and wanted more to get rid of the marks completely. It made Cleve wonder how eager she was to return to Ovira. They hadn’t spoken about their homeland in weeks.

  He didn’t hold any judgment toward her vanity because he didn’t see it as her fault that she wanted to be as pretty as possible. Throughout Cleve’s life, women had been regarded differently because of their looks. It was no different in Greenedge, and among the Elves, beauty seemed even more important. The women fretted over creases on their faces, dirt in their hair, stains on their clothing. But the men were just the same. It was a nice change that both genders were equally concerned. Then the novelty of watching the men withdraw a mirror from their bags to check their faces, meticulously wiping off dirt and fixing their hair while wearing a scowl, wore off within the first day of their travels.

  Cleve put his hand on Reela’s back. “It’s time to go.”

  She grumbled as she sat up and lifted her hands for Cleve to pull her the rest of the way. Once on her feet, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his chest, letting him take all of her weight.

  “Reela?”

  She’d fallen asleep in his arms. He kissed her head to wake her once more.

  “Did you sleep at all?” she asked.

  “No.” He knelt down. “I’m not tired,” he lied. “You can sleep on my back.”

  She leaned into his back and put her arms around him. He stood and hooked his arms under her knees.

  “It makes me feel like a child to be carried this way,” she murmured. “But I don’t care.”

  Then she was asleep again.

  Chapter 36:

  JEK

  Just as he started riding, Jek felt he needed either food or sleep, possibly both. Baylee knew the way best, so Jek kept his horse behind hers. Baylee’s wavy amber hair swished with the trot of her horse. If it would stay still a moment, it was long enough to reach the saddle behind her. Vithos had long hair of a darker brown, though his fell straight to where it bounced against the middle of his back.

  Vithos leaned over, reaching for Baylee. He nearly fell off his horse and grabbed Baylee’s hair to steady himself. She shrieked. In a blink, she had a tight grip on his hair. With a quick yank, she pulled him from his horse.

  Both mounts stopped. Baylee burst into laughter. It was a malicious cackle. She pointed at Vithos as he lay on his back in stunned disbelief. Then a playful smile came about his lips.

  Neither spoke. Vithos simply got back on his horse. They started forward as if nothing had happened.

  What the Bastial hell was that? Jek was about to ask, but he was so tired and hungry, his curiosity wasn’t as incessant as usual, and it soon faded away.

  It wasn’t long before he was drifting off as he rode.

  By evening, he figured he’d managed to get a few hours of sleep. Rain had begun to wake him. In his dream state, he thought at first the two Elves were playing some sort of game with him, perhaps drooling on him or something else just as absurd.

  In the moments he’d watched them, they were like little children playing games. They teased each other, poked and pulled each other’s arms, tickled one another, and they wouldn’t stop laughing, none of which Jek understood.

  The clouds overhead didn’t block the sun, allowing the rain to come down in warm sheets while the forest stayed bright.

  “We need to clean,” Vithos said, removing his shirt. “You need to clean, too,” he told Baylee.

  “You just want me to take off my shirt.” Baylee pointed at him fiercely with an accusatory tone. Both spoke slowly and with an accent, though they hardly sounded alike. Vithos’ words had no rhythm, no sway. They burped up from his stomach one at a time and tumbled out of his mouth. Baylee’s accent was like that of many of the other Elves. Consonants flowed together with the vowels before them, giving her the steady tempo of a distant river twisting through rocks.

  “I just want you clean,” Vithos said. “You stink like horse.”

  Baylee’s mouth dropped open. “That’s the horse, not me!”

  “I can’t know unless you clean. Come, the rain is warm.” Vithos rubbed his neck and shoulders. He turned to look behind him. “Jek, have any soap?”

  “I don’t.”

  As if the clouds were being wrung out, the rain suddenly came down hard. It had been too long since Jek had bathed. He removed his shirt.

  Baylee frowned at him. “Let’s stop to rest and bathe. I’m very tired.”

  “And stinky,” Vithos added.

  She leaned back on her saddle and kicked him in the shoulder with her heel. He laughed as he grabbed his shoulder and muttered something in Kreppen.

  They rode their horses into a dense cluster of trees. Baylee and Vithos were whispering and laughing. Soon Baylee glanced at Jek. “We’re going to clean our bodies over there. You stay here for privacy.”

  Jek figured he knew what that meant, and he kept his opinions about their behavior to himself. They left him with the horses.

  He stripped, looking carefully in each direction before removing the last of his clothes. The rain came down so hard and warm, it was almost like a shower, reminding him of the Takary palace. Although he thought of Lisanda, he found himself more curious in that moment about the palace staff—Gerace, Silvie, were they st
ill there? It was a long ride back to The Nest, but he would find out soon enough.

  He found some dry clothes at the bottom of his bag. He put them on when he was underneath a tree where the rain couldn’t reach him. With the horses tied, he sank down against the trunk and fell asleep.

  He awoke with a start, realizing he’d almost fallen into a nightmare without removing his shirt first. He was unsure how long he’d been asleep, but Vithos and Baylee still weren’t back. Unable to stop himself, he checked on the pouch of evesal seeds in his bag for at least the tenth time that day. Then he fell asleep ready to face his darkness…at least as ready as he could be.

  He couldn’t help wanting to hurt the darkness at least once before it was gone completely. Somehow he’d gotten used to the pain of his body being ripped open. It was the fear that he could never overcome.

  The horses thrashed to free themselves from their reins. They ripped free and ran as the sky darkened. The rain continued to beat down while Jek stood and searched for what he knew was coming—his worst enemy. Panic was reaching for him, trying to wrestle him into submission. He fought to keep it at bay as he watched the forest and waited.

  He noticed one tree had turned black. It was his darkness hiding, waiting for terror to strike first. But Jek wasn’t about to let that happen. He grabbed for his wand—but it wasn’t on his belt. His stomach turned as he searched for some sort of weapon, keeping one eye on the black tree. Grabbing a rock, he let his rage give him strength, and he threw it at the tree.

  Nothing.

  There was a laugh. It came from the ground and rose, encircling him, caging him in. Everywhere he turned, the trees were blackening from their bases to their tops. Their laughter was like a drum beating louder and louder as they slid across the forest toward him.

  In full terror, he cursed himself for not running when the horses did. He was a fool for thinking he could hurt his darkness. Now there was nowhere to go.

  “I am part of you.” The deep thrum of its voice shook his bones. Never had it spoken to him before. “I will always be part of you until you die.”

  Jek wept with fear as the trees sprung from the ground. Huge globs of mud dripped from their twisted roots. They came together over Jek’s head to form one massive trunk with tendrils reaching out for miles in every direction. Mud splashed so hard onto his shoulders, it felt like he was being pelted with rocks.

  He shielded his eyes and looked up. The enormous base of the tree, with all its mangled roots, was crashing down from above him. He didn’t have time to scream as his body was shattered beneath it.

  His shoulders were stinging when he awoke. Realizing he was pressed against a tree, he jumped and fell trying to get away. It startled the horses. Reality came back. The trees weren’t going to hurt him. The horses calmed. He checked his wounds. There were no new cuts on his chest. He felt around his back. No new wounds there, either.

  The pain in his shoulders worsened. He carefully moved his hand over them and found several openings, as if cut by small yet sharp rocks. Discouraged, he sighed. He was a fool to think he could do anything against such power. He hated when the cuts were on his back or shoulders, especially when Lisanda wasn’t there to help him clean them.

  Luckily, it was still raining. That made it much easier for him to wash away the blood. The moment he was done, he checked on his evesal seeds again. Still there.

  Vithos and Baylee finally came back holding hands. They barely noticed Jek. They mounted the same horse, and then she addressed him.

  “Let’s ride. Still some hours before night.” She slid her arms around Vithos’ stomach. The other horse followed, and Jek followed behind it on his horse. He watched Baylee lean forward to rest her head on Vithos’ back. It reminded him of riding to his farm with Lisanda after he’d managed to get her out of The Nest. She’d joked with him about Varth Farro’s terrible singing, and he’d heard her laugh for the first time. It was then that he knew he was developing feelings for her.

  Sometimes he worried Lisanda didn’t truly care for him. She’d always wanted her own love story, and he’d given her that, even if it was by accident. They never argued, their undying passion had only gotten stronger, and they’d made it through every challenge. But was it just the idea of their romantic story that kept her interested? What would happen when they no longer were being separated and put in danger? Could they grow old together and remain happy? Would she become bored with him?

  It brought him back to his worries of marriage, the thought always causing the same feeling of a pipe being stuck in his throat. He knew they needed to talk about it, but he kept putting it off. Getting married was so important to Lisanda that he was worried he would lose her if he told her how he felt about it.

  It would be easy to blame her for her need to marry, but he didn’t. She was a Takary princess. He’d learned much about her upbringing in recent months, and this need for a perfect romantic marriage was taught as the purpose behind life. He despised the idea.

  He wondered about Cleve and Reela. They’d hardly touched each other, at least in front of him. Did Reela come to Greenedge with Cleve because she loved him, or did she just believe it was the right thing to do? If Jek decided to go to Ovira, would Lisanda go with him? He figured she would if she could bring Jessend, just as Reela had brought Vithos, but again—would it be because Lisanda loved him or because she felt obligated?

  These thoughts only worsened his mood. He’d had these same worries when he’d gone north to fight the desmarls, but he reminded himself that the moment he’d seen her again—when she’d screamed and run to him, overjoyed at his return—all of his worries had vanished. Maybe that would happen again.

  Chapter 37:

  JEK

  Vithos and Baylee cuddled together each night under their blankets while Jek suffered through the worst nightmares he’d ever had. His darkness was a vicious monster, as cruel as the worst illnesses, as violent as a swarm of mookers catching someone sleeping in their forest.

  But that didn’t compare to his fears about Lisanda. Left to his own thoughts, he worried more and more about what he was going to say to her. Jek had disobeyed her brother—the King. He’d even shot a fireball at the bastard. He’d joined the enemy, at least that’s how Raymess saw it. In Jek’s eyes, Raymess had made himself the enemy. He needed to convince Lisanda of this, but she was a Takary and loyal to a fault. Her mother would be even more difficult to sway.

  After a week, they finally reached The Nest. Jek was nervous about meeting Fatholl, almost as much as speaking to the Takarys about what had happened.

  As the image of Fatholl’s silver hair framing his smug face came to mind, there was a prick of anger deep in Jek’s stomach.

  So I haven’t forgiven him for what he’s done, Jek realized. Though, this anger was separate from what he held for Raymess. It felt like two piranhas battling against each other in his gut, one representing Fatholl and the other Raymess. When Jek recalled not only Danvell’s bloody body but all the guards the Elves killed as they took over the palace, Fatholl’s piranha thrashed and scared off the other piranha, taking all of Jek’s focus.

  But then Jek considered Raymess’ stubbornness and how it might lead to the destruction of their continent. But somehow even that didn’t enrage Jek as much as when he relived how the condescending King refused to allow him to get his cure. With these thoughts, Raymess’ piranha would fight back, overwhelming Fatholl’s. Back and forth they went.

  As his party arrived at the front gate of the palace, Jek couldn’t decide who infuriated him more. So he reminded himself that the right thing to do was to join Fatholl, not fight him. Whatever happened before doesn’t matter now.

  Jek scoffed. Of course it still mattered.

  Elves came to take their horses. By the time Jek followed Baylee and Vithos inside the palace, his frustration was directed at himself for not being more resolute. He’d better decide what he wanted to say to Fatholl before he got there.

  The palace l
ooked no different, but it certainly felt different. There was a sense Jek got whenever he came home to Sannil and Kalli. It was the same feeling as sitting by the hearth on a cold winter’s night with a blanket drawn over him, a feeling of belonging and serenity. He’d felt this every time he’d walked down the palace halls, especially with mages following him, awaiting his command. He tried to be humble when he could, but that didn’t mean he didn’t relish the sensation.

  But the feeling was gone now. He might as well have been walking into an enemy’s palace, shackled at the wrists with his wand taken from him. It would do him no good anyway against so many psychics. In here, he was nothing but another playing piece in their cruel game. He sighed. It was time to let go of his pride.

  “Jek, are you angry with us?” Baylee asked.

  “No.”

  “You have no certainty,” she said with a shake of her head. “Your answer lacks strength.”

  “Because I’m not sure who I’m angry at. I feel like I don’t have the will to be angry at everyone who deserves it.”

  Vithos touched his shoulder, and calm flushed his enraged body. It felt as if anger had been stuck to his skin like dirt and Vithos had put him beneath a waterfall, the water blasting it off him. But deep within him, the rage still burned red hot. He stepped away from the Elf’s touch, petulantly shrugging off Vithos’ hand.

  “Don’t do that,” Jek snapped. “Let me control my own emotions.”

  “I thought you want help,” Vithos said. “Sorry.”

  Farther into the palace, Jek started recognizing servers. When they caught his glance, they waited, but he didn’t know what to say. Waving would be absurd; even a smile felt out of place. All he could think to do was give a stern nod, as if to acknowledge he was here to work with Fatholl but wasn’t proud of it. He wasn’t sure how much of this came out in his nods. From the sense of purpose in their eyes, though, they seemed to understand at least some of it. They must’ve made difficult choices. Surely not all of their relatives and friends agreed with them working within the palace. Many had fled the city. It had been half deserted when Jek rode through earlier that day.