Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5) (20 page)

An enemy archer turned and fired wildly at his chasers. Both jumped to the side as the arrow came between them and flew into the camp. Looking the other direction, Peter was hit in his rear. He jumped and grabbed his meaty flesh with both hands.

“My ass!” he screamed. Rushing over, Jek found the arrow had grazed his backside. There was a rip through his pants and underwear. Jek couldn’t see how deep the cut was, though. Peter’s hands were pressed against it, his head titled to the sky, his feet jumping back and forth.

He continued to scream. “Who shot me in the ass?” he uttered between yelps, looking around frantically. “Who!”

“It was a skunk running away,” Jek said. “Let me see how deep the cut is.”

Peter uttered curses as he removed his hands. The rip of his pants was both long and wide, revealing the flesh of his rear to anyone who looked, even from afar. The cut was deep.

“Looks like you won’t be sitting for a while.”

“Bastial hell!” A gush of curses followed.

Calvon came back into the camp. His face didn’t show whether he’d caught up with and killed the man he was chasing. Concern came over him when he saw Peter hissing and grabbing his rear. “What happened?”

“He was shot,” Jek said.

Calvon’s head tilted curiously. “In the ass?”

“Yes, in the ass!” Peter yelled. “I didn’t even see it coming.”

“That would be somewhat of a challenge, wouldn’t it?” Calvon had a wry smile. “To be shot in the ass after seeing the arrow coming?”

“Just get some damn bandages.” Peter wasn’t amused.

Before Jek could enjoy the victory, the officer he’d helped started shouting orders. “Load the crates on the carrier. We’re taking the bear too, so make room.” He spoke to everyone at once, turning in each direction to make sure there wasn’t a single man standing still. He found Jek. “Are you daft? Move!”

Jek hurried to the tent. He grumbled when he saw that the ground was covered in bread and other dried food from spilled bags. The bears had made a mess, but two crates were still unopened. Then he remembered the food he and Peter had hidden. Jek jogged to the officer who was searching the enemy corpses.

“We were hiding food over there while we were waiting for you to come.” Jek pointed.

“So get others to help you bring it over,” the officer said without a look.

Jek asked Calvon to help him, and he enlisted four others to join them. Peter was lying on his chest in the middle of camp, complaining about his stinging ass to anyone who came by.

In no time, everything had been loaded onto the long carrier, ready to be wheeled back through the forest…everything except their fallen comrades.

Jek stayed in the rear of the group, beside poor limping Peter. Calvon was somewhere in the front talking with the officer.

“What about the bodies?” Jek wondered.

“No one’s coming back for them,” Peter said in a cold voice. “Everyone who fights knows there will be no ceremony upon their death. Their bodies will become part of the forest, devoured by the animals, and shit out onto the soil.”

Jek felt a chill as the image of his own death came to him.

Chapter 17:

JEK

Night came while they walked. Jek was called to the front by the officer.

“Give us some light,” he commanded, “but not bright enough to alert our enemies.”

Jek moved Bastial Energy through him and out his wand, creating a white glow.

“You’re young.” The officer spoke as if it were a complaint. “Don’t see many young mages.” He plucked the fabric of Jek’s official green robe. “Especially young Sartious mages. You something special?”

“He’s the King’s Mage of the Takary Army,” Calvon answered.

Jek feared the officer would figure he knew everything about him. Luckily, the stalwart man just looked him over once and said, “Seems too young for that role. And that robe is absurd. If it were up to me, even our mages would be in armor.”

“Armor would just slow me down. If they get in on me with their swords, it’s more likely to get me killed than save me.” Jek only noticed the shaking of Calvon’s head after he’d finished speaking. He’d talked back to an officer. His heart jumped into his throat. Did he no longer have the same rank that he did in the palace? He’d never gotten used to holding his tongue, and the thought hadn’t even come to mind.

Nervously, he checked the officer’s expression. With folded arms, he regarded Jek indifferently.
Could it be he doesn’t know my rank, either?
Jek wondered. He needed to speak to Micah.

Jek heard people arguing behind him. “Looks like you can walk just fine.”

Peter’s voice followed. “I can’t! Just let me get on.”

“We can barely see. It’s more dangerous with you on it than walking on your own. The carrier could fall over, and you’d be crushed by the crates.”

“I’m bleeding through the bandage.” Peter’s voice was loud. “I can’t keep walking.”

Jek felt sorry for him and watched the officer to see what he would do. He found the man’s beady eyes on Calvon. “Go figure that out, will you?”

Jek listened carefully to see how it would play out.

“You really can’t walk?” Calvon asked.

“How about I shoot you in the ass and we see how far you can walk,” Peter retorted.

“Alright, weakling.” Calvon looked at the troops manning the carrier. “Stop and let him on. Any of you need a break pushing it?”

“I’ll take one,” someone said.

Jek looked over his shoulder to see Calvon taking the man’s spot.

As they came into the clearing around the lake, the moon guided them the rest of the way to the base of the mountainside. Getting the carrier up it took twenty men.

Jek wasn’t looking forward to another night in the bunker. The last was one of the worst he could remember. Sleeping chambers were dug deep into the mountain, endless rooms with thin blocks of hay as beds. They were wide enough for three men, and at least they were covered by a rough sheet of wool. One blanket belonged to each block. It was designed to be shared, though it was only big enough to fit comfortably over two men.

Jek’s nightmare had woken not only the two strangers sharing his block of hay and blanket but countless others as well. They were confused by it, thinking he was casting magic. And when he showed them his cuts in an attempt to convince them of the truth, they claimed he must’ve gotten them earlier. One man had heard of Jek, but even he didn’t believe what was happening, claiming Jek was trying to create a false image of himself.

There was no water and no towels or bandages. Jek was forced to walk through the bunker in the dark, dripping blood as he suffered through the stinging pain.

The water room was covered in grime, stank like death, and was constantly guarded. Jek showed his open cuts to the disgruntled man who sat outside on a stool. He was too tired to be curious about where Jek got them, unlocking the door and warning Jek about using too much water.

It took Jek nearly an hour that first night to tend to his wounds, but finally he was back in his firm and scratchy straw bed, half his body huddled under the sheet. The place was so dismal that he was glad Lisanda wasn’t here with him. She would be miserable. And there wasn’t one woman among them, just twenty-five thousand angry, dirty, and hungry men, all with no clue of how long they’d be there.

Jek at least felt fortunate he’d been grouped with Calvon and Peter. Although he’d spent only one day with them, he’d already started to like and, more importantly, trust them. In situations like these, when Jek found himself attempting to avoid misery rather than seek happiness, he would trade comrades who were good company for those he could trust.

Once they arrived back at the bunker, Calvon helped Peter up the slope as Jek followed. When the path to the officers’ quarters was about to take him on a separate route, he said goodnight.

“Quite a first day for you,” Calvon said with Peter’s arm around his shoulder as they hobbled forward.

“Goodnight, Jek,” Peter muttered.

The officers slept in a room similar to everyone else’s, but their straw beds were smaller so they didn’t have to share. Jek hoped Micah hadn’t settled in for the night yet. The secretive man usually stayed up quite late at the palace, so chances were good he was still awake.

As Micah didn’t have a room of his own, Jek tried his luck knocking on Raymess’ door.

His knocks went unanswered. Unsure if they’d been too soft to get through the massive wooden door or were simply ignored, Jek tried one more time, this time louder, hurting his knuckles in the process.

“Who’s there?” someone called.

“Jek Trayden. I’m looking for Micah.”

“Come in.”

Raymess and Micah were seated across from each other, a parchment of some sort across the adviser’s lap. He stood and rolled it up.

“Have you heard that we found food?” Jek inquired.

“A messenger just came by,” Micah said. “Tobkin left to see how much there is. It was your group that found it?”

“It was, though mostly by luck. We were attacked, but they fled once they started to lose. We followed their tracks to a camp. That’s where we found the crates.”

“Jek.” Raymess stood from his chair. “My father chose well when he appointed you the King’s Mage. We haven’t yet officially discussed this, but I would like you to remain in that position for me.” Jek listened for pride in Raymess’ voice, but the man seemed too tired and hungry. Either that or he was suddenly humble—something Jek had never seen in him before.

“I’m honored, my king.” The mention of Raymess’ title felt forced and uncomfortable. “I was curious what my rank is among these men.”

Both Micah and Raymess seemed to understand, nodding.

“It’s complicated,” Micah said, tilting his chin to show Jek a knowing look. He’d explained previously that when a man of higher rank begins his response by first describing how complicated the situation is, it means he doesn’t have a direct answer. A king and his council had to know the solution to every problem. And when they didn’t, they still had to pretend they did. “In Goldram, every mage, bowman, and swordsman was below you and the King’s Warrior. But the officers here don’t all serve the Goldram Army. About half are from Zav, and they have a different system of ranking their men.”

Raymess interrupted Micah with a yawn, apologizing as he covered his mouth. “Forgive me. The day has been long.” He fixed Jek with a hard stare. “The truth is that there’s no one here I trust more than you and Micah.”

Jek was shocked. He’d never heard Raymess say something so heartfelt to him.

“Micah explained what happened at the palace.” The monarch’s next words got caught in his throat. “You were there for my family when I wasn’t. And I’ll never forget that you saved my mother’s life and my own when we were captured in Chanren and taken to Karri Forest. I can make your rank higher than any officer if that’s what you choose.”

Has he always had this respect for me?
Overwhelmed with pride, Jek dropped to one knee and lowered his head. “The rank isn’t as important to me as being able to sleep somewhere separate from everyone. With my condition, I woke countless people last night, and it was very difficult to get my wounds cleaned and bandaged.”

“Say no more,” Raymess replied. “And please stand.” The boom of his voice made it difficult for Jek to look him in the eye. He was no longer Lisanda’s older brother. He was Jek’s king. “Your rank will be equal to the other officers. However, because of your affliction, you can stay with Micah and Tobkin. Clean water and an empty basin will be brought to their room along with towels and bandages.” The practiced commanding look of his face broke when he turned to Micah. “There’s room for the young man, right?”

“There’s room.” Micah showed Jek a brotherly half-smile.

“Was there anything else?” Raymess inquired.

“Forgive me if this question is out of place,” Jek began. “I’m curious if anything has changed now that we’ve found food.” He paused, nervousness almost keeping him from continuing. “Is there still a chance we’ll need to give up?”

“It’s my understanding that only three crates of food were found,” Raymess said. “No matter how big they are, there can’t be enough for twenty-five thousand men. Right now we’re eagerly awaiting the return of everyone Tobkin sent out to retrieve food. We’re also setting up a delivery that should keep us fed for weeks. If things go wrong…this battle may be lost.”

So is there even a point to going out into the forest and risking our lives as we wait?
Jek wondered if there was some way he could phrase it without drawing a rebuke.

Giving up, he bowed his head. “I see. Thank you, my king.” He turned for the door. But luck gave him the chance he needed to express his true concerns when Micah told him to wait.

“I’ll go with you.” Micah looked to Raymess apologetically. “I think we should rest and see what ideas come to us in the morning.”

Raymess’ gaze fell as he sighed tiredly. “You’re right. Sleep well.”

“Sleep well, my king.” Micah left with Jek.

Impatiently, Jek barely managed to wait until they reached their sleeping quarters. Without noticing anything about the room other than that no one else was there, Jek let his worries flood out.