Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5) (31 page)

Cleve did not dream. Reela awoke him and Vithos with an apology.

“How late is it?” Cleve asked as he sat up.

“Afternoon. The skunks are close.”

Vithos stood and shook his head to shed the drowsiness. “Still hungry.”

“Everyone is,” Reela said. “They’re preparing a light meal for us before battle.”

They followed her into the dining hall. Although there were just as many people there as during breakfast, it was quiet. It felt restricting, making Cleve keep his voice to a whisper. “Do we know how many skunks there are?”

“They estimate fifty thousand,” Reela whispered back. “But that’s just what someone told me. Could be a rumor.”

Raymess yelled from the front of the hall. “Sit and listen. A small meal will be served as soon as I’m done.”

Cleve, Reela, and Vithos scurried to the nearest table that had enough room. He didn’t know anyone there. They were all men, a few of them with lingering looks at Reela.

“The siege will be over soon,” Raymess announced. “And when it is, we’ll have a feast.”

Everyone applauded.

“Your officers will take command. The Elves and those who came with them will report to Klaiya. All of you will be fighting, and we will win.”

The crowd applauded again. Cleve couldn’t help but compare Raymess to Terren. The young King needed much practice to reach Cleve’s uncle’s skill at delivering rousing speeches.

He was especially shocked when it was clear Raymess had no more to say. The King walked off to sit at a table with Micah and other men Cleve didn’t recognize.

A bearded man climbed onto his table near the front and thrust his fist into the air. “Kill them! Kill the skunks!”

“Kill them!” others joined in the cheer. “Kill them! Kill them!”

But Cleve could only think of Oster and felt no compulsion to shout or even stand. This battle was inescapable. Even worse, it was pointless. But too much had been set in motion to stop it. This was how it needed to happen. These men had to fight each other—kill each other until one side retreated. And that had to be the skunks. Otherwise, everything leading up to this might be for nothing.

Cleve could feel Reela’s gaze on him. Her vibrant green eyes dove into him as he met them with his own. She and Vithos knew everything he did. They shared his frustrations, his worry, and his compassion, but there was another feeling stronger than the rest. There was a deep sense of belonging, with each other, and with what was to happen here and now.

But then grief took all those feelings, squeezed them together, and took a chunk of his heart.

Rek…he should’ve been here with them. He belonged here. Cleve glanced between Reela and Vithos. He knew he was in the midst of a wave of psyche. It had taken him on a quick journey through their emotions.

With glistening eyes, Reela squeezed his hand, holding Vithos’ with her other one. “We’ll make sure all of us get through this alive.”

“We keep safe,” Vithos said.

Food was served: poached eggs, bacon, and apples. By the time Cleve finished eating, he felt like himself again. The trumpet sounded and everyone stood. Cleve shook the stiffness from his neck and shoulders, mentally preparing himself to end men’s lives with the swing of his sword. It still wasn’t an easy feeling to get used to.

Klaiya led him and the Elves into a different room. There weren’t many Humans besides Cleve, but there were enough that he found a man in each direction he looked as they clustered before their leader. These men were citizens of Goldram.
Still are,
Cleve corrected himself. Their commander had changed, but their allegiance to their territory had only grown stronger. These were men who truly believed in Fatholl’s cause. Some of them had been part of the Takary Army, while others were simply skilled with a sword or a bow and joined when Fatholl’s Elves came to recruit them.

It was strange how few mages there were in Greenedge. From what Cleve gathered, magic was rarely taught except by mothers and fathers to their children. There were no schools, nothing like the Academy, which meant their warriors were unlikely to be as skilled as those in Ovira.

But Cleve still couldn’t help but feel attached to Greenedge just as strongly as he did his homeland. This was where his ancestors had come from. They’d left the continent to start a new life away from the desmarls. Reela’s and Vithos’ Elven ancestors had done the exact same thing, only they’d come many years afterward and sailed to the northern end of Ovira instead of the southern.

And when Reela’s and Vithos’ ancestors were forced to return to Greenedge, nothing had changed. No one had a plan for the desmarls. The monsters continued to mate, multiplying rapidly as everyone had predicted. Cleve was determined to put an end to it. He felt resolve hardening him.

“We all knew the likeliness of this battle when we started north,” Klaiya said. Being nearly Cleve’s height, even those in the back were able to see her. “This is the first battle involving both Elves and Humans, and it certainly won’t be the last. We cannot fail. Lake Mercy must remain under the control of Goldram and Zav. I know it will be difficult fighting and killing men who will eventually be joining us. But we must. Morality is layered. It has a surface, a middle, and deep down there is a center—the last act and the source. In our case, the desmarls are the center. Every choice we make is so we can exterminate the desmarls. We’re nearing the middle layer right now, almost there. Trust the plan. Protect the frogs and each other.” She gritted her teeth. “And be merciless.”

“
Baymi allo
,” said the crowd.

“
Baymi allo
,” Cleve, Reela, and Vithos joined in, as the Elves repeated it two more times. He’d heard the saying before.
Have honor in fighting
.

Chapter 29:

JEK

In recent days, Jek had felt the Sartious Energy around him increasing. In the air, from the ground, from the trees, he could feel it like wetness on his skin the moment before a cold winter rain. The only other time he’d felt this much SE was when he was near desmarls in the underground tower that men of Waywen took him and Lisanda into, and when he went north to face the beasts. He’d killed ten and brought back their eyes for her now dead—Jek had to keep reminding himself of this—father.

But he knew it couldn’t be desmarls now. They wouldn’t reach Lake Mercy for another hundred years. So what else could it be? Could the SE in the forest be increasing?

His dreams were worsening. His darkness had taken on new shapes, often showing up as a giant. It kicked Jek, crushed him, grabbed him and squeezed until all the bones in his body shattered. It made him once again fear falling asleep. Jek figured these dreams had to do with the cure Cleve had brought, as if his darkness knew it was finally about to be challenged and hopefully beaten. He didn’t care what was asked of him after the battle was over. He was leaving. The evesal seeds needed to be planted, and he needed to see Lisanda. Whatever repercussions that caused, so be it.

Harold was the officer in charge of Jek’s group. He was thankful to be following instead of leading in this case. Part of Jek’s training as the King’s Mage involved learning to command men and women during battle, but he hadn’t practiced enough to be comfortable yet. He wasn’t used to worrying about thousands of enemies and allies at the same time. He’d never even been in such a battle before. What his instincts would tell him was still a mystery.

His group was made up of archers and a few mages. Red mages, Jek found out—specialists in Bastial Energy. He was relieved. Although Sartious Energy was abundant, it was easier to control without others near him interfering. His group walked up a twisted path to the top of the mountain. The lake was behind them, far, far below.

“This is too high,” Peter complained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to hit a skunk without killing one of our own.” He was nervous and already seemed to have forgotten one of the first things Harold had explained.

“We’re up here to shoot them before they engage with our swordsmen…while they’re far away and still among the trees,” Jek said. “Do you remember now?”

“No, I was having trouble listening.” Peter’s hands were shaking. “What’s going to happen after they reach the clearing?”

“Then we’re going down, closer to the base of the mountain. We have the least dangerous task, Peter. We only have to worry about arrows and fireballs.”
And one or two rock slingers, depending on whether Cleve made his shot last night.
Jek decided not to add that. “Calvon and Cleve have to worry about those things and all the swordsmen. We need to relax and focus so we can assist them.”

“Right.” Peter shut his eyes and took a deep breath. But he jumped when Harold shouted an order.

“Archers, ready your arrows!”

Peter cursed and sucked in air quickly.

Squinting, Jek could see skunks in the gaps between the treetops. It was impossible to tell how quickly they were moving and even how far their army stretched. Somewhere among them was at least one rock slinger. It should’ve been easy to spot, but Jek didn’t see it.

The rest of Jek’s allies were at the base of the mountain, waiting for the skunks to emerge from the trees. It was so quiet that Peter’s rough breathing was distracting.

From the forest came a squeak, then a growl, then a squeak, then a growl. Rhythmically, the two sounds continued to alternate.

Harold’s men pushed out their necks as they listened. No one offered a guess as to what it could be. It went on and on, squeak then growl, squeak then growl, until eventually someone said, “They’re cutting down a tree.”

Soon they heard the sound of cracking wood as a single tree fell. A rock slinger was revealed in the opening it created, too far for Jek to reach with a fireball.

“Fire at the siege weapon!” Harold commanded.

Jek saved his energy and watched his allies let loose a barrage of arrows. They rained down on the forest, at least half getting stuck in the trees without coming close to the opening. Still, Jek heard screams in the distance.

“Keep firing,” Harold commanded.

But the moment he spoke, a crack thundered out from the trees. The rock slinger’s rod jerked and flung a boulder. For the briefest of moments, Jek almost laughed, as it looked like the skunks had thrown the jagged rock straight up to land on themselves. But it spun and tore through the air as it grew bigger and bigger.

Bastial hell, it’s going to reach the mountain!

“Look out!” a few voices shouted.

It crashed into the mountain halfway up from the base. The rumbling ground knocked Jek to his knees. He heard the boulder bouncing down and slamming against the dirt at the bottom. There were screams, but Jek couldn’t tell if they were from fear or pain.

“Get up and fire,” Harold ordered all those who’d hit the ground. “Don’t stop shooting! Mages, can you reach the siege weapon?”

Instead of answering, the red mages grunted and thrust out their wands as they hurled fireballs as far as they could. None even came close. The fireballs got caught among the bushy treetops and burst apart.

There was another crack of the rock slinger.

“Incoming!”

Again, the arc was deceptive. There was no way for Jek to tell how close this boulder would land until four or five rapid heartbeats before it struck.

When this one sailed over their heads, slammed into the mountain, and rolled down into the lake—breaking the water with a shattering splash—Peter spoke Jek’s exact thought. “I think they’re aiming for us!”

“They must not want to come out of the trees until we’ve moved,” Jek figured.

“Then we should move.” Peter looked at Jek desperately.

Does he expect me to take over as commander?
“We will when we’re ordered to. Keep shooting until then.”

More arrows were released. Hardly any screams followed. Jek began to wonder if they were wasting arrows.

Come on!
Jek shouted in his mind.
Come fight us.

The rock slinger cracked again. Each time, it sounded like some part of it was breaking. The arc of this rock looked to be somewhere between the last two…it looked to be coming right toward them.

“Jek…” Peter muttered. His voice rose as the spinning boulder started to come down. “Jek! Jek!”

The mountaintop was uneven and crowded. The men bumped into each other and tripped in their mad attempt to flee. It made it even more difficult to focus as Jek visualized the spell he wanted to cast. He wouldn’t be able to hold the Sartious Energy for long, and his aim needed to be perfect. So he waited, hoping Peter wouldn’t pull him out of the way, as the boulder was coming down right above him. Everyone around him screamed and tried to flee, bumping into his arms and shoulders, but still he waited, gathering so much energy that a shimmering green cloud formed around him.

Before it completely blocked his view of the hailing boulder, he formed the heavy energy into spears, focusing to press their flat ends hard against the uneven mountain while their tips were sharp and spaced a fist apart. There wasn’t enough time or SE to fill the gaps between them.

Screaming to focus, he put all of his effort into maintaining the hardness of the spears. Like claws reaching out from the ground, they rose until they were twice Jek’s height. The boulder crashed into them and made a sound as if ten shields had shattered at once. Rock and hard SE exploded, pelting Jek as he turned to hide his face behind his arm. Gray and green dust mixed in the air. Fragmented rock tumbled down the mountain.