A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4) (31 page)

Terren appeared concerned, but Abith put his hand up. “I’m all right.”

“There was someone Vithos and I fought on the mountaintop,” Basen said. “Bigger than any man I’ve seen.”

Terren and Abith looked up at him. They both seemed tired, as they should be. This was the first break in at least half an hour. Basen could think of no better time to bring up the one thing about his recent excursion that bothered him more than Fatholl still being alive.

“No psychic could harm him, not even Vithos or Fatholl. He fought with a shield and an axe, both of bastial steel. I watched him cleave an Elf and lift him off the ground as if the Elf weighed nothing. This giant practically laughed at me when I tried to shoot him with a fireball, absorbing it with his shield.”

Silence followed as the two men waited for Basen to continue.

“None of the students or instructors speak of it, but we all know battle is coming soon. We will see him again.”

Then, as if Basen hadn’t spoken, the two of them turned to each other and began to fight once more. They poured their concentration into studying each other as they alternated between defending and attacking.

At first, Basen figured they were fighting until a victor was chosen. But as the hour came to an end and they were still scoring points as if this was a real fight, Basen realized this was not the case.

They both moved as quickly as students half their age. Even as Terren sweated through his shirt, he never lost his vigor. Meanwhile, Abith remained as quick as a cat. The only time he lost his smile was when Terren did something unexpected, like spinning and kicking Abith’s sword out of his hand. Basen was amazed at the headmaster’s agility, figuring he must use bastial energy in the same way Cleve and Abith did.

Eventually, Basen was able to forget about the giant atop the mountain and focus purely on this duel. He felt the itch to fight, to do what he came here to do. He knew bastial energy could help him be a better swordsman, and this was proof. He saw it work for Terren and Abith in their sudden bursts of speed and strength that couldn’t otherwise be explained.

Basen eventually lost track of how many points each man scored, as it obviously mattered not to them. Finally, Terren put out his hand and stepped away from Abith.

“Enough for me.”

“Very well.”

Terren whistled, and the wall guard came over and tied the rope to the parapets once again. He looked in each direction before telling Terren, “It’s clear.”

The headmaster climbed up first, then put his sweaty hand on Basen’s shoulder and looked into his eyes.

“Every man can be killed.”

There was something about hearing that from Terren that put Basen’s mind at ease. The headmaster hadn’t shown even an inkling what to do about this threat, yet Basen still trusted him to handle it. There was comfort in that.

Terren and the wall guard left, but Abith stayed and told Basen to wait.

Basen left his own sword on the wall, then jumped down to stand in front of Abith. “Did my father speak to you?”

“No. Do you need his permission to train with me?”

“No, but it would make my life easier.”

Abith grinned and patted Basen on the back. Both he and Terren seemed to be in better spirits after their session. “If that’s the path you choose, then fine.” Abith started to walk toward the wall, clearly having decided Basen wasn’t ready to train with him.

“Wait,” Basen said. “Can I use your training sword?”

Abith smirked. “Saw something you want to try for yourself, did you?”

Basen nodded and caught the sword Abith tossed to him.

“That’s
my
training sword, so I expect you to treat it better than you would your own,” Abith said. “Bring it back to me at Warrior’s Field before dinner hours.”

Finally, after everyone else had gone, even the wall guard, Basen was alone. He whispered,, “Prepare yourself, Ovira, for Basen Hiller!” He grabbed bastial energy out of the air and readied his sword for the most powerful swing he’d ever made, then moved the bastial energy into his arms, and…

“Ow!”

He cursed and flapped his arms like a fat bird too heavy to achieve flight. He hoped nobody had seen him burn himself, and he especially hoped Abith hadn’t seen him toss the sword by accident. Basen picked up Abith’s weapon and placed it at the base of the wall where he could find it again. Basen didn’t want to risk hurling it against the wall, and it seemed as if it might take time to figure out how to do this.

One thing was for certain, pain meant he was doing it wrong. He gathered less energy this time, reminding himself that warriors like Cleve and Terren could do this, so it probably didn’t take much energy. He sucked in air through his teeth as he spread the energy down his arms and felt his skin singeing. It was still too much.

Something occurred to him. Cleve and Terren probably couldn’t grab bastial energy from the air because that would mean they could make light.
They have to be using the energy already within their bodies.
This energy was easier to manipulate, and there was less of it.

Basen closed his eyes and concentrated. There was probably enough energy within him to make a tiny fireball if he forced it into a ball and mixed in sartious energy from his wand. So just to be safe, he removed his wand from its sheath and set it next to Abith’s sword. The last thing Basen needed was to scorch his insides. He thought of Penny and her distrust of his abilities. She’d always assumed he would hurt himself or others, and he didn’t want to prove her right.

As he kept his eyes shut, the wind was all he could hear. It did nothing to disrupt the energy he felt mostly in his chest and stomach but also in his limbs. Bastial energy had a feeling similar to a feather resting on him or a soft blanket of heat when there was more of it. BE was trapped beneath his skin, no doubt doing something to keep him alive, though no one had proven the health benefits of it yet. Psychics had only confirmed it was in every living creature. Basen had felt the effects of it leaving his body when he needed every last bit of energy for fire. It had made him sick and cold, as if death was creeping closer, ready to grab him and never let go.

He took hold of the energy in his torso and tried to move it into his right arm, but all he managed to do was drag it out of his chest and press it against the skin of his arm.

Next he tried directing the energy through his shoulder and then down his arm, but when he got it there he felt no different. He hurried over to grab Abith’s sword and take a test swing, but the excess energy had left his arm.

Basen put the sword back down and closed his eyes. For a while, he tested the energy in his body in various ways. He noticed it was much harder to pull bastial energy from the air into his body than it was to draw out the energy already there and then stuff it back in. It was as if the energy in his body was different than that in the air, making his body more able to accept it.

Psyche, he remembered, was the manipulation of someone’s personal bastial energy. There had to be something unique about it, a connection between it and his feelings. Perhaps even his thoughts?

Meditation…what had Nick said about it?
It’s like breathing, the energy flowing in and out without effort.
Basen felt chills as everything he knew about bastial energy was connecting.

If psychics could manipulate bastial energy to make people feel real pain, then Basen should be able to manipulate his own energy to…

He forgot the world around him as he kept his eyes shut and focused.

It could’ve been five minutes or thirty before he opened his eyes again. He felt as if he’d just awakened from a week of sleep as he had to squint against the brightness of the evening sun, momentarily forgetting where he was but not what he was doing.

His legs were tingling as if anticipating a race. He burst into a sprint and let out a manic laugh. He ran faster and faster, feeling as if he could take flight if he jumped.

He approached a tree, its lowest branch about as high as the Academy’s wall. He leapt and felt as if he were in a dream where gravity didn’t exist. He soared so high he frightened himself and flailed his legs. His hand brushed against the branch before he finally sank down to earth.

He stumbled into a somersault, then rolled.

When he came to a stop, he lifted his arms and held in a shout of triumph to release it only as a guttural whisper. “Yesssss!”

Looking up at the branch, he let out a curse of surprise. It really was about as tall as the Academy’s wall. He raised his arm and extended his fingers to judge the distance that he’d jumped. It was about the length of his leg…his entire leg. He’d really jumped that high? Then he saw how far he’d run from the wall.
God’s mercy.

He had to make sure he could reproduce the same results. So he focused his mind again, keenly aware of exactly what he was doing with the energy. He readied himself much quicker this time, then broke into a sprint. The grass at his feet became a blur. He’d always been a decent sprinter, a better jumper, and an excellent distance runner, beating his friends in any contest of stamina, but never had he felt control over his body as precisely as this.

He kept running, needing to find out just how fast he could go. But even though he wasn’t fatigued, his body soon slowed to the speed he was used to. He felt none of the same burst of energy in his legs.

He tried to conjure up more energy as he ran, but all he ended up doing was dragging it out of the upper half of his body and instantly draining his stamina, suddenly feeling cold and tired.

He sat right there and threw his arms around himself. It only took a few moments to feel right again, but he’d learned his lesson. These bursts of energy were just that—bursts. And now his legs felt as if he’d run a few miles. They were tight and hot, and probably would cause him pain tomorrow. Normally he wouldn’t care, except injury might stop him from training further, and he had so much to explore now.

He wasn’t a psychic, but it almost felt as if he was performing psyche on himself to achieve this result. The key wasn’t moving energy from the air or from one part of his body into his legs, it was using the energy already there—his natural energy—to push his body to its limit.

“As humans, we’re born with the idea that we’re capable of extraordinary things,” Basen said as he paced in circles. “Children fantasize they have powers to the point of actually convincing themselves they might. This fades with time as we get older, but only after we fail to achieve these abilities. Many people, like me, still fantasize about discovering abilities that break the rules.”

Basen wasn’t sure who he was talking to, exactly. He’d just felt compelled to find an explanation as to why he felt like a little boy again. There were definitely limitations to these bursts of energy, but he was confident he would find a way of pushing his body a lot further than he had today.

He jogged back to the wall, glad to be able to use the energy in his legs once again. Instead of pushing himself to the utmost speed he could achieve, he kept his slower pace to see if this energy could increase his stamina.

By the time he got to the wall, his legs already felt better than before. It was as if he’d let them rest.
This is how Cleve finished first.

Basen could only imagine what he could accomplish once he learned how to use this energy more efficiently. He looked around for the wall guard but saw only unfamiliar men patrolling the wall.

“Excuse me,” he called to one of them.

“You must be Basen,” the man replied. “The other guard left with the rope. He told me I shouldn’t open the gate for you, so you’ll have to go around to one of the other sides.”

That was no problem, for Basen wanted to jog anyway. Actually, the wall was looking rather low…

He went to grab his wand and Abith’s sword, putting both in their respective sheaths. He strengthened his legs with energy as he envisioned the jump, then got a running start and leapt. He still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of flying as he propelled himself up and got his hands around the small stone blocks that made the parapets. He pulled himself up and over, then smiled at the surprised wall guard.

“Bastial hell, it’s like you have Kreppen blood in you.”

So this is why meditation is taught to all mages at an early age
. There was no doubt it would help recoup stamina. It would take time to be able to use the energy in the same way he used his muscles, without concentrating to do so, but he was certain he’d get there eventually. When doing it correctly, it felt like flexing his mind toward a part of his body, almost like aiming his hand to grab something.

Basen cursed as he noticed the Redfield clock. Dinner hours were almost over!

He grabbed his sword, ran down the ramp to the dining hall, and hurried inside. He found Abith sitting with his usual group of followers, as if his training session with Terren had never happened.

Basen stopped short. Should he give Abith back his sword in front of everyone? Abith stopped eating when he noticed Basen holding the wooden weapon behind his leg and trudged over angrily.

“You were to meet me at Warrior’s Field.” He put his arm around Basen and turned him away from the table. “You cannot return my sword here.”