Bastial Steel (36 page)

It always is.

And his sword was chipped now, so dull in some places it wouldn’t even cut the skin of a Human, let alone a lizard-like Krepp.

Cleve sighed at the thought of it.

He and Jek had stopped for a quick meal, Jek looking up at the sound of Cleve’s loud exhale.

“What’s wrong?”

Cleve shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Frustration twisted the corner of Jek’s mouth. He swallowed his food, then spoke. “I don’t know why you think people aren’t interested in what you have to say. It’s not true, you know?”

“I’m not worried about boring you,” Cleve answered. “I just don’t see the reason my thoughts need to be shared when there’s nothing you can do to help.”

“Haven’t you learned anything from Jessend? Just letting it out is helpful, even if I have no wisdom of my own to share on the topic.” As if channeling the diminutive princess, Jek folded his arms in a proud fashion. “Now what’s bothering you?”

Cleve let out another sigh, knowing it was easier to just tell the mage. “I’ve spent all this time in Greenedge, meanwhile my friends and family are fighting in Kyrro. I finally feel confident I’ll return, but what difference will it really make…and what if I’m too late?” He picked up his sword, twisting it to catch the sunlight. “I’m not sure I’ll even want to use this weapon anymore with one side being useless. And Nulya could be killed the first moment I take her into battle. I have no training in battle-riding.”

Cleve let down his sword, beginning to feel that he was rambling…whining, even. “I’m just coming to realize that it’s silly to be so eager to return. I’m just one man—a man who’s wasted so much time on another continent, only to return to be part of an army that already has thousands of men just like me.”

He really felt it now…sniveling like a child. That was all he was going to say.

Jek looked as if he had no reply, taking a swig from his water pouch and glancing out over the land of Goldram to the east.

“You can’t honestly believe your time here was wasted.” It wasn’t even a question, not the way Jek’s judgmental tone carried his words. “Think about all you’ve done for us…what could’ve happened if you’d never come. Think about who you were stepping off that ship and who you are now.”

The two men’s eyes met, and Cleve tilted his head to show skepticism.

“If you still believe it was a waste, you’re either lying to me or lying to yourself,” Jek said.

An itch came to Cleve’s forehead. He looked away as he scratched it.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “But how could you even know how I’ve changed?”

Jek shrugged. “We all change, especially around our age. It was a pretty safe assumption.”

Cleve couldn’t believe he’d had to cross the Starving Ocean just to find himself—his inner strength that Reela had discovered during their
first
conversation. He always assumed it would be her who brought it out of him.
But it was a tiny princess,
he said to himself.

Suddenly, he felt as if he hadn’t done enough for the Takary family. Jessend had saved him from imprisonment in Kyrro, helped him heal old wounds he thought would just continue to fester, and even given him a means to return home with kingly gifts.

So what if his sword was chipped and dull on one side. He could get used to that. And having the only horse in Ovira would be a major advantage in times of war. Then there was Rek—Rek! How could he forget? Rek had a horse as well and should be returning with him.

I hope he’s back at the palace by the time we return.
Cleve couldn’t even guess what had happened with him and the Elves.

Cleve’s eagerness was bubbling up from his stomach once again, making it hard to sit still. He finished the rest of his meal quickly, hopping on Nulya’s back and waiting for Jek. The mage rushed to stuff his mouth, standing and wiping his hands together. He mumbled something, his full mouth preventing any hope of Cleve being able to understand his words.

With that, they were off.

Chapter 30

A few days later, the walls surrounding The Nest crept into view between low hills, and a tingling sensation washed over Cleve’s body. The evening sun bounced off the city, giving it a golden glow so bright Cleve couldn’t look directly at it.

“Is this why it’s called Goldram?” Jek wondered aloud. “I’ve never seen the land look like this before. Perhaps I’ve just never had the time to pay attention.”

It made Cleve wonder something himself. “The continent is called Greenedge—is that because of the green Sartious Energy of the desmarls that have taken over the edges?”

“Yes,” Jek answered. “This continent used to go by a different name until the northern and southern edges were covered by their SE mist. ‘Greenedge’ was just a nickname at first, from what I’ve heard. I don’t even know the original name, I doubt many do anymore.”

They kept their horses at a trot, both unwilling to risk injury to their mounts when they would be at the palace by sunset at a slower pace anyway. It also gave them time to speak, for it was painfully obvious this might be the last time they had the chance.

“Are there any competitions that award titles to the victors?” Cleve asked, thinking of Redfield.

“Competitions?” Jek questioned. “Do you mean like shotmarl?”

“I suppose,” Cleve said, “if titles are awarded in that.”

“Only nobles have titles, and you’re asking the wrong person if you want to know what each of them means. Royalty has titles as well, prince, queen, like that. But the men who are part of the winning shotmarl team don’t receive a title. Their honor comes mostly in praise, salary from their king to play in the next season, and of course fame. Did you know they’re required to go fight the desmarls for a week, and Jessend’s first betrothed died doing so?”

“I know,” Cleve said. “I was more curious about the titles, specifically. There are a few traditions in Kyrro—competitions that result in titles for the victors. Though, with war going on, I doubt any will happen this year.”

Winning the Redfield competition at the Academy and earning the champion title was always Cleve’s dream before he was a student. But ever since his first day at the Academy, when he met Reela and his other roommates, that dream was lost in a sea of trouble.

He wondered why it suddenly had come back to him now. Could he be that calm about the war in Ovira to be thinking of earning himself a title?

It’s strange how easy it is to remember old desires. But how rare is it for them to come back just as strong as they were when they were lost?

Cleve actually had an “adept” title granted to him from winning the weapons demonstration.
Cleve The Adept
. He’d never really liked the sound of it, even now as he said it in his head.

But to Cleve, the champion title was immeasurably better, and it lasted forever as well. The adept title was gone after a year—when the next weapons demonstration took place, it would transfer to the winner. Luckily for Cleve, he’d won each year he’d competed since the age of fourteen.

But to have a title that could be gone in an instant seemed worthless to him. He’d never entered the weapons demonstration competition for the sake of the title anyway.

He almost laughed at how much his mind had wandered during the brief pause in his conversation with Jek. There was something about titles that he could get lost in, as if the moment he started thinking about them he drifted out to sea without realizing where he was going. Next thing he knew, he didn’t know which direction he’d come from.

“Cleve the Superficial,” Jek said in a teasing cadence. “That’s what I should call you…caring about silly titles.” He let out a laugh. “I never would’ve figured you would.”

“Everyone has a guilty pleasure.”

“Is that true?”

“Of course.”

“Then what’s mine?” Jek asked, genuinely curious.

“You’re overconfident and take pleasure in getting out of tricky situations, so you push boundaries until you’ve meddled your way into something you shouldn’t have.”

Cleve thought it might’ve been humorous to tease Jek about his rash decision-making. But the moment he finished speaking, it felt as if he’d been too accurate for it to be taken as a joke. He really did mean everything he’d said…which was a mistake.

Before he thought to apologize, Jek retorted with a smile, “Says the man who attacked his own castle with an army of rats.”

“So you’ve heard about that.”

“Jessend loves to share.”

Cleve felt his heart jumping in his chest. Did she tell others of their private conversations about loss…about deep sorrow…about true weakness? He couldn’t stand the thought of someone knowing how weak he’d been—how weak he could be in any given moment when the sting of death came back to his thoughts, wrapping around his body like chains, squeezing all the strength out of him.

The question of whether or not she’d told someone was burning in his brain, stealing all his focus.

So he gave up trying to ignore it, letting it dwell in his mind and falling silent until they reached the walls of the city.

The guards recognized Jek, letting him and Cleve through without question. At a slow pace, they rode their horses side by side down the King’s Road.

“Cleve, I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t stop wondering something.” Jek paused, allowing Cleve to decide whether or not he was willing to hear the question.

“What is it?”

“How likely is it that you’ll be coming back?”

Cleve tried to glance to his side as subtly as possible, not wanting Jek to know he was examining his expression.

Jek kept his head straight ahead, though his eyes shifted to Cleve for a blink. Then Jek wiped his nose, as if suddenly self-conscious, and looked back ahead.

“I honestly don’t know,” Cleve said. “I don’t want to tell you it’s likely unless I know that for sure. I don’t even know what the chances are that the chemist I told you about will know of a cure to your darkness. Then there’s the war…it could last years, we could lose…I could die.”

“Stop.” Jek let out a defeated laugh. He started to say something, but no words came. Finally, he uttered, “I don’t want to get back to the palace depressed from such a bleak conversation. I appreciate your honesty, always have.”

Again, Jek started to say something but coughed instead, as if the words got caught on the way out. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“You saved my life…more than once. I would’ve suffered a truly terrible death from both the mookers and from Azaylee if it wasn’t for you. You’ve already done more than I could ask for. And I don’t know what would’ve happened to Harwin and Lisanda in that room if you weren’t there.”

Cleve was about to tell him to stop. It was too strange to be complemented so generously, especially with the crowded streets filled with listening ears. But Jek seemed to be finished. He was awkwardly quiet.

Then he cleared his throat again, following with, “I just wanted to say thank you and wish you the best of luck.”

Cleve felt as if it was his turn to compliment Jek, but he was just as bad at giving them as he was at receiving them. Nothing came to mind. He knew the mage had done just as much to ensure that their mission was a success and that everyone came back alive, probably even more than Cleve had. But in that moment, with the bursting noise from the activity on the street, Cleve had no words for Jek, as much as he wanted to.

It hit him how exhausted he truly was, how little sleep he’d been getting in the last few weeks. Having no idea what would come out, Cleve decided he just needed to start speaking.

“You have my thanks as well.”

Discouraged, Cleve let that be it.

Or at least he thought so, until something else came to mind. “I have a feeling we’ll meet again, whether it be if I come back here or I see you in Kyrro when the Takarys decide they want to take control of Ovira.”

Cleve still didn’t know how he would fix that dilemma. But there was too much else to worry about first for him to truly be concerned at that moment.

“I have the same feeling,” Jek agreed with an embarrassed grin.

“So let us stop this sentimental talk,” Cleve said.

Jek laughed. “So be it.”

Chapter 31

Cleve and Jek both went around to the back of the palace to drop off their horses at the stables.

It was no surprise for Cleve to find Jessend there with Silvie. The Princess ran and jumped at him with such startling speed it scared Nulya into rearing up.

Trying to control the horse and deal with Jessend’s flying body at the same time made Cleve fall hard on his back from her impact. He could see Nulya running off out of the corner of his eye, Silvie chasing after her and hollering for her to stop.

“It’s gotten too easy to knock you off your feet,” Jessend teased, climbing off Cleve and attempting to pull him up by wrapping her small hands around his right wrist and tugging with all her might.

Once he was upright, she went to her toes, and he leaned down to let her give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Lysha told us everything,” Jessend said. “But we expected you back sooner. Did something happen after she left, or did it really just take that long for you to recover from the mooker bites?”