Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5) (25 page)

But a shriek Cleve recognized as Reela’s spun him around. Someone had grabbed her from behind. With his arms around her stomach, the man was carrying her farther from the caravan, deeper into the crowd.

Cleve pushed through to follow, but men didn’t take kindly to his shoves, and soon they were grabbing his arms.

“He’s got a Bastial steel sword!” someone yelled, reaching for it.

Cleve elbowed the man in his chest. He then swung around and slammed his fist into the chin of someone holding his left arm and broke free. He didn’t see Vithos. But he did find Reela fall to the ground as the man carrying her screamed in agony and let her go.
Reela must’ve pained him with psyche.

Cleve fought his way through to find her on the ground just like Klaiya. But someone already was helping her up. While Calvon was getting Reela on her feet, Cleve looked around, ready to protect her, yet no one seemed interested anymore. All eyes were focused behind Cleve at the caravan.

He looked over his shoulder to find frogs had jumped on the platforms and swarmed the crates. Others were pulling them down so they fell into the clamoring crowd. More jumped up to help.

The blast of a trumpet split the air. Cleve turned toward the mountainside where the bunker was located. Filling one of the paths leading up to it was a group of archers all aiming at the caravan.

“You’ll be shot and killed if you don’t get off!” shouted Raymess Takary, standing amid the archers.

Half of the ravagers stopped and jumped off. But they looked back at those still there, clearly considering going back.

Arrows impaled no less than ten men who’d refused to listen. Immediately, everyone else hurried off the caravan.

“Move away from it!” Raymess demanded.

The men obeyed, pushing into each other to make space. Cleve had his arm around Reela as her hand reached up to hold his.

“What did that man want with you?” Cleve asked.

“I don’t know. I pained him before I could find out.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” Cleve hadn’t gotten enough of a look.

“No. I never saw his face.”

“Be careful,” Calvon warned. “Many of these men haven’t seen a woman in a long time, especially one who looks…well, like you do.”

Raymess descended the path as he shouted. “Everyone bring the food inside! Anyone caught taking anything will be killed!”

It took the better part of an hour before the crowd had completely cleared. Cleve recognized Micah Vail standing beside Raymess as they spoke in whispers and regarded Klaiya and her Elves. She cautiously approached, but Raymess held out his palm. “Wait there.” Instead, he waved Jek over.

The long-haired man Cleve had seen helping Klaiya during her fall came to Calvon’s other side. His name was Peter; Calvon introduced him to Cleve, Reela, and Vithos.

Peter couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from Klaiya. She straightened the twists in her coarse brown hair as she spoke with an Elf who Cleve didn’t know by name, just that he was her brother.

“Did anything happen to Klaiya earlier?” Cleve asked Peter.

“So you saw her dragged into the thick of things?”

“And I saw you helping her, but I couldn’t get there before I was pulled away.”

“She wasn’t hurt, and she seems strong. I doubt it affected her.” Peter watched her with what Cleve perceived to be reverence. He didn’t understand it. Had she used psyche to get this reaction?

Reela and Vithos chuckled to each other as they had their own conversation about Klaiya and Peter.

“You know what all this food means,” Calvon said, his tone foreboding.

Peter sighed and finally looked away from Klaiya. “You’re right.”

So they were smart enough to realize what Fatholl already had predicted: With enough food for weeks, Goldram and Zav’s army would face a full-force attack by their enemies.

“We’re here to protect you,” Cleve informed them.
Goldram and Zav cannot fall.
Those were Fatholl’s words, and one of the many statements he’d uttered to Cleve, Reela, and Vithos that convinced them he was more of an ally than an enemy. Cleve had never known someone to be both at once, and still this confused him, scared him. He couldn’t deny there was a chance he was just a prop in Fatholl’s grand play.

“But Klaiya said she serves Fatholl,” Calvon questioned. “Does this mean Fatholl has now joined Goldram and Zav against Waywen and Presoren?”

Cleve chose his words carefully. “We don’t serve Fatholl. We share the same goals and agree with his orders. If that ever changes, we’re free to leave or even turn against him.”

“Are you speaking for you three or for all the Elves?” Calvon asked.

Reela stepped in front of Cleve to face Calvon and Peter. “We could never speak for all the Elves. Most of them reside in Meritar. So any of the Elves you see here have been exiled or left by choice. Either way, they’re never allowed to return because of the difference in their beliefs. Psyche is outlawed in Meritar. And so are Humans. I’d be considered an abomination.” She shook her head in disgust. “They would kill me and my Elven father if he weren’t already dead.”

Peter took his eyes away from Reela to set them on Klaiya once again. “I think the ears are beautiful.”

A smile broke across Reela’s lips. “You do know there’s no chance?”

Cleve was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s hopelessly lusting after Klaiya,” Reela said. She, Vithos, and even Calvon laughed. Cleve realized his earlier mistake. It wasn’t reverence but desire he’d heard in Peter’s tone.

“How do you already know about Peter’s feelings?” Calvon wondered, still laughing.

“Psyche,” Vithos answered. “He want her more than starving man want food.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at them. “Is she married or something? Do Elves even get married?”

“They do,” Reela informed him. “And no, she isn’t married. But I’ve spoken to Klaiya about men. She’ll crush your heart.”

“Why do you say that?” Peter asked dubiously.

“Even if you somehow get in her good graces, she’ll be too busy for you.”

“There’s no such thing as too busy for love.”

Cleve couldn’t help but burst into laughter with everyone else. Peter’s tone was poetic and utterly serious. It was the most absurd thing Cleve had heard in a long time, not so much the statement itself but the confident cadence of his words and his thirsty eyes drinking her in.

Probably through psyche, or simply because she heard them laughing, Klaiya turned. Her head tilted, then she started over.

“Oh, I look forward to this,” Calvon muttered.

Peter came toward her. With a shocking lack of fear, he bowed and gracefully glided his hand, cupping the air to push it past his hip in a gesture Cleve wasn’t familiar with. For all he knew, Klaiya wasn’t either. Her slight smile and crinkled brow gave her a look of amused bewilderment.

“Are you the one who helped me?” she asked bluntly, her voice revealing no gratitude.

“I am.” Peter rose.

“And you tried to talk with me on the way to the lake,” she realized. “And I ignored you.”

Peter nodded. If he felt shame, he hid it completely.

Klaiya pursed her lips. She seemed to be entertained by whatever this was. “What was that gesture you made with your hand?” she asked.

Calvon answered as he and the others watched from behind Peter. “In Zav, men bow like that to show their interest.”

Klaiya cupped her hand over her mouth, half hiding a smile. As her hair danced from the gentle breeze, she dropped her hand and walked right up to Peter. Either by choice or because her amusement had ceased, her expression was now serious as she regarded him. “What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

“How old are you, Peter?” Her tone was as if he were a child begging for a glass of wine.

“Thirty-five.”

Klaiya’s arms crossed.

“Thirty-three,” Peter tried.

Klaiya scowled.

“I’m thirty, my lady.”

“Do you know that I’m a psychic?”

“I assumed this was the case.”

“Then you’re either
galyana eela ramil
, or you didn’t know that a psychic of my level can sense every lie you tell.”

“What does that Elvish phrase mean?” Peter inquired. “It’s beautiful.”

“Dumber than dirt.”

His mouth twisted into a frown. “Oh.”

“How old do you think I am, young Human?”

“Thirty.”

Klaiya folded her arms. “We just talked about lying.”

“You can’t be older than thirty-five, my lady.”

“I’m forty-three.”

Cleve was shocked, but even more so when he heard how quickly and calmly Peter replied.

“Yet you’re still the most beautiful woman here.”

“Klaiya,” Raymess called. “Come speak with us.”

She leaned down to meet Peter’s gaze. Taking his cheek with one hand, she showed a cruel, taunting smile, the kind only an empowered woman knows how to wear gracefully. “
Ai svio hall kay nee rewindars
.”

“Klaiya!” Raymess called again. She turned toward him.

Still as a statue, Peter watched her go.

Calvon came up and put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you think she said?”

“I don’t even care.” He took a slow breath. “I’m in love.”

“You’re mad.” Calvon looked around. “Well, I’m going to find out what it means.
Ai svio hall kay nee rewindars
,” he repeated to himself as he started toward a group of Elves.

It wasn’t long before laughter erupted. A moment later, Calvon was running back.

“So?” Peter inquired.

“She said she would shatter you to pieces.”

“That’s closer to a yes than a no.”

Reela laughed. “I can’t understand it. You actually believe that.”

As Cleve noticed Raymess’ men gathering behind the young king, he started toward Klaiya to protect her. Others came with him, and soon two small armies were facing each other with their leaders at the front. Reela slid her arm through Cleve’s.

“I’m not letting any Elves inside the bunker until you explain why you’re here,” Raymess said.

When Klaiya shifted her gaze to Micah, her head whipped back in shock. “I see you have a psychic here who’s ready to detect lies.”

Cleve’s blood rushed. Did Raymess know this already? By his steady expression, it did seem to be the case.

“And you’ll answer every question I have,” Raymess said. “
Why
are you here?”

“We couldn’t stand by and let you lose this battle. You must keep the fort.”

“Why do you care?”

Klaiya seemed reluctant to answer as her eyes darted to Micah. “It’s part of the plan to exterminate the desmarls. Zav and Goldram cannot lose the war, and your army falling to starvation or an attack here is likely to lead to a loss.”

Raymess turned his incredulous glance toward Micah, clearly waiting for the raven-haired man to say she was lying.

“It’s the truth,” he said instead.

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

A mix of anger and confusion creased Raymess’ brow as he glared at Klaiya. “Why would Fatholl kill my father if he wishes to help us?”

“Fatholl’s plan involved the assassination of all four kings in the east, not just Danvell Takary. It was carried out successfully, and its purpose already has been demonstrated. Half of your armies have joined us. A fourth of your citizens have even demonstrated their allegiance toward us now. The murder of your father may seem cruel to you, but it was an act of necessity, no different than you ordering your men out into the forest to kill skunks for your own protection. Now we are on course to exterminating the desmarls. But first we must make sure to protect our allies.”

“We’re not your allies—”

“You are,” Klaiya interrupted. “You have been since the beginning.”

“I will never ally with the man responsible for my father’s death. Are any Elves here of Fatholl’s family?” he asked, clearly eager to see them die.

“Many of us,” Klaiya said. “But if you’re asking if we’re of his blood, then the answer is no.” She stepped forward, and her tone softened. “We don’t expect you to forgive Fatholl or enjoy our company. But you need our food, our psyche, and our swords. The enemies you fight have seen the food we’ve brought. It’s now clear starving you won’t work. But they know you’re heavily outnumbered. They’re organizing for an attack, and it will be soon.”

“You’ll fight with us?” Raymess asked.

“We will.”

“And then what?”

“We won’t turn against you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Raymess bit down on his lip, his face showing his murderous intent. “Do you know what I’m thinking right now?”

“Psychics cannot read thoughts. But I can feel your hatred.”

“Hatred is putting it mildly.” He looked as if he might spit on her. “We’re not done. Bring your Elves inside, and we’ll speak in my quarters later.” He turned to leave.