Bastial Steel (21 page)

Lysha tumbled backward, letting out a guttural scream.

After coming to a stop, she casually got to her knees and fixed her long fall of hair, putting it behind her shoulders. “Without a wand? Really?” She laughed bitterly. “I can’t say I expected that.”

She stood and walked toward the horses, Cleve and Jek following. “I think they’ve rested long enough,” Lysha said. “Let’s get back to riding. I’ll beat you both next time they need a break. And no magic!”

“Fine,” Jek said. “But I’m not stupid enough to wrestle Cleve without it.”

Nulya whinnied, nudging Cleve with her head. Jek and Lysha burst into laughter.

“Look, Nulya says she could beat you, Cleve,” Lysha teased.

Cleve petted her. “I’m sure she could.”

The land in Zav wasn’t too different from that in Goldram. The hills were sparse, grass came in either small patches or vast fields, and sightings of other people were limited to about one or two a day.

Lysha had explained that there weren’t any small towns along the route she’d chosen. Because their group was more than two, they were likely to be met with aggression.

With war starting up again, spies were on the move. When their identities were revealed, they would relocate, meaning trouble often would follow them. People knew this, so they didn’t treat strangers too kindly.

“That’s what happens when four territories have touching borders,”
Cleve remembered Danvell saying. He’d recently learned more about the history of Greenedge from Lysha and Jek. He’d already heard that desmarls had taken over both the north and south, pushing everyone to the center of the continent, but he never would’ve guessed it was the fault of Humans that it had happened.

Back when people slept in huts, insects were a big annoyance and an even bigger issue for their crops. But there was a simple solution: desmarls. Back then, desmarls were small, not growing bigger than a hand. Just like now, they produced Sartious Energy clouds, and they ate only meat, meaning they didn’t kill the plants around them.

Most people either lived in the north or the south, and they bred and traded desmarls, making them a form of currency. Over hundreds of years, the desmarls thrived with Human assistance, growing much larger and more quickly, and producing many offspring. But by the time it became clear that Humans were being attacked, it was already too late.

There were too many of the creatures to fight against then, so the Humans battled their way through the less dense clusters of desmarls to the middle of the continent, leaving the north and south to the beasts. It was how the term “common tongue” came to be. There were several languages before then. But when everyone came together, common tongue took over as the main language.

“Why didn’t people fight back against the desmarls and clear them out while they were still small?” Cleve had asked after Lysha and Jek finished telling the story.

“People weren’t powerful enough,” Lysha answered. “They couldn’t fight what they couldn’t see.”

“How do you fight against desmarls now, then?”

Cleve looked to Jek, hoping he wasn’t eliciting any traumatizing memories for the mage. Cleve couldn’t tell by Jek’s calm expression.

“Mages can blow the Sartious Energy out of the way with Bastial wind. Or if they’re Sartious mages like me, there’s plenty we can do. The desmarls produce it, but they can’t manipulate it once it’s in the air. With enough time and caution, we can slowly make our way toward their bodies, which is when the archers finish them with arrows.”

“That’s how you killed each of them?” Cleve asked.

Jek seemed lost in thought for a moment. “There was too much chaos for me to really know what we did to kill the first desmarl. I’m still surprised that no one died. But I’ll tell you how we killed our tenth one. By then our strategy was sound. When we reached the edge of the SE cloud, the mages with me used Bastial wind to blow the SE farther ahead until a tentacle was revealed. They tend to sway back and forth, so we had to stay out of range until we saw one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot the tentacle at that point…or cut it with a sword?” Lysha asked.

“It’s not so easy. They’re so large, an arrow won’t do much, neither will a fireball. And if a warrior doesn’t cut deep enough with his sword, he’s dead. Even if he does sever the limb, another tentacle could come from somewhere out of the cloud of SE to defend itself, lashing wildly through the air until it feels something to wrap around.”

“My Bastial stars,” Lysha murmured.

“It gets worse,” Jek warned her. “Finding the tentacle is the easy part. But in order to kill each beast, we had to expose its body so our team of archers could shoot it. An arrow to the eye is the best way, as their brain is right behind it. We’d find a gap between tentacles where we could move in. By then, the mages could no longer use Bastial wind because the desmarls would feel it on their tentacles. So I had to keep the SE out of the way while we continued forward by manipulating the heavy energy. A desmarl can only reach one spot with three of its eight tentacles at once, so the end of the bout always involved archers shooting at the body while everyone else defended against the three tentacles trying to crush or grab us.”

“That’s a sound strategy?” Lysha blurted.

“There were a few close incidents,” Jek admitted. “The worst was when we’d misjudge our distance to the tentacles and one would surprise us before we could find the beast’s body. Luckily, a good team of swordsmen, archers, and mages can fend off three tentacles fairly well. And that’s what we were.”

“How many desmarls are out there?” Cleve asked.

“In the north?” Jek asked.

“In all of Greenedge, north and south.”

Lysha and Jek both shook their heads at him. “No one knows,” Jek answered. “But it’s estimated to be between thirty and fifty thousand.”

Cleve felt his mouth drop open. “And how long did it take to kill ten of them?”

“Most days we killed two. Other days, only one.”

“No one has come up with an efficient way of killing them yet,” Lysha said.

“There probably isn’t a way,” Jek added. “It’s just a slow process. But if everyone came together to fight them, we could win in a matter of months.”

But instead, everyone fights for the middle of the continent or wants to leave.
Cleve felt guilt gnawing at him.
And I’m one of those who wants to leave.

An idea came to him. “What about psychics? They should be efficient at helping kill desmarls.”

Jek looked to Lysha. She waved her palms at them. “My Bastial stars, I’m not getting anywhere near those things.”

“I wasn’t thinking of her,” Cleve said. “I know other psychics who are strong enough to kill one on their own.”

This time Jek and Lysha’s mouths came open. “Are you serious?” Jek asked.

Cleve nodded. “How long did you say their tentacles are from their body?”

“Somewhere around fifty yards. We don’t know for sure.”

“Fifty yards would be tough,” Cleve said. “But with a team of mages helping psychics get closer to the body, they could.”

Jek’s eyes shifted to Lysha. “Are you getting chills as well?”

“Yes…how would a psychic kill a desmarl?” Lysha asked. “Through pain?”

“I suppose,” Cleve said. “Or they wouldn’t deliver the killing blow, just stop the desmarl from attacking so archers could shoot it.”

“Psychics can stop the limbs of the desmarl on their own?”

“At least one psychic can,” Cleve said, thinking of Rek. “He single-handedly stopped a ship-eater that attacked our boat on the way over here.”

“A ship-eater?” Lysha asked.

“I think some call them giant squids,” Cleve said.
Though, Mmzaza said they weren’t that.

Jek practically jumped. “He did?” the mage screamed. “How?”

“It was grabbing the boat, so he pained it until it stopped. It didn’t follow us after that.” Cleve shook as he remembered how it had felt when he’d first met Rek. “I’ve felt the spell of pain he can produce. It’s completely debilitating.”

“Enough of this,” Lysha demanded. “These wild stories are why people with even a slight psychic ability like me are considered dangerous.”

“Can’t you tell I’m speaking the truth?” Cleve asked, dumbfounded that again his words might not be taken seriously.

“I can,” Lysha answered to his relief. “And that’s what makes me so angry. It’s psychics like that who make it so the rest of us are forced to keep it a secret, even though I can’t do anything like that.” She turned. “It’s time to ride. We have some Takarys to save, and our horses have rested enough by now.”

Their next few conversations were all about Rek.

Jek made it clear that he hoped Rek could help with Greenedge’s desmarl problem, but Cleve couldn’t give him what he wanted—a promise that Cleve and Rek would return.

“At least come back to tell me what can cure my darkness when you find that out,” Jek pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” Cleve said. “I just can’t make that promise.”

Jek looked away and shook his head. “You’re right. I should be the one to come to Kyrro, if anything. It’s not your responsibility.”

Perhaps it was because they’d been speaking about Rek so much recently, but Cleve decided to put his hand on Jek’s shoulder just as the Elf often did with him. “I understand,” he said.

Lysha came over and put her hands on both of their shoulders. “Are we done having a moment, boys?”

Jek rolled his eyes and walked toward a tree, unzipping his fly on the way there. “We are now.”

It left Cleve alone with Lysha as they waited.

“How long have you known you’re a psychic?” he asked to break the silence that came with her awkward stare.

“Since I was twenty, maybe.” She pointed, her tone suddenly scolding. “And don’t try and guess how long ago that was.”

“Or you’ll try to wrestle me again?” Cleve joked. “Should I beat you with no arms this time?”

They’d wrestled three times by then, Cleve winning each time with one arm held behind his back. At one point he’d teased that Jessend could beat Lysha, and he actually wondered if it was true.

“Hold your tongue, Muscles,” Lysha said. “Or I won’t tell you all the mooker rules.”

“Mooker?” Cleve asked, the name sounding familiar.

Jek came back to join them. “I’ll need a reminder of the mooker rules before we get into Karri Forest. I’m sure there’s some I’ve forgotten.”

Cleve held his puzzled look, planning to do so until he was answered.

“When we met, I mentioned mookers living in Karri Forest,” Lysha said. “They’re short little creatures that come up to our knees, though their bite and claws are deadly when they attack in numbers—which they always do. In fact, they’re always in numbers in general. If you see one that looks to be alone, there are really others around that are hidden.”

“Do not underestimate a mooker.” Jek grabbed Cleve’s shoulder, somewhat fiercely. “Or you could get us all killed.”

“I’ll explain the rules before we get to the forest,” Lysha said. “For now, we ride.”

Chapter 19

When darkness had taken over the land, the three of them settled near a fire for a late meal.

“We’ll reach the forest tomorrow,” Lysha said. “It will be our eighth day, which gives us only that day and the next to get Raymess and Vala out and send the pigeon back. Do you have a good memory, Cleve?”

“It depends what I need to remember.”

“How about information that’s necessary for you to stay alive?”

“I can remember that.”

“Good, because I’m about to tell you everything you need to know about mookers.” Lysha cleared her throat, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “First, think of someone who has done things so strange and risky that you couldn’t understand them no matter how hard you tried.”

Steffen.

“Done.”

“Now, imagine he or she is a creature with claws and teeth that abides by rules instead of logic, has no sense of fear, and lives with thousands of others just like itself. That’s the best description I can give of a mooker.”

Jek was nodding. “Sounds about right.”

“Stand up,” Lysha told Cleve. “We’ll start with the dances. They’re the most important.”

“Dances?” Cleve wasn’t happy about this already.

“Yes, and you’d better learn to smile while you do them. They don’t like it when you don’t.”

Bastial hell.
He tried forcing a smile.

Laughter erupted from Jek and Lysha, both of them doubling over. Cleve felt himself immediately frowning.

“Forget the dancing,” Lysha managed to get out as her laughter quieted. “You’d better practice your smile first.”

Jek was still laughing. “No, maybe they’ll like a giant man who looks like he’s shat his pants.”

Lysha’s laughter came back.

When they both were done, Lysha told Cleve to try again.

“I’d better not look,” Jek teased. “Or I might die from laughter.”

“I can’t just do it,” Cleve admitted, not even wanting to try again.