Bastial Steel (4 page)

“Who’s this young man?” Danvell asked, his smile fading as he looked to Cleve.

“A friend from Kyrro,” Jessend answered. “Please, don’t let us interrupt. I’ll tell you everything later, Father.”

He nodded back to her. Jessend and Lisanda made their way to the corner of the room, Cleve following them there.

The two monarchs picked up their conversation quickly, relaxation gone from their stern faces.

“You were saying that the movements of your army had nothing to do with Goldram?” Danvell Takary questioned, his tone somewhat dubious.

“That’s correct,” the King of Zav answered. “Our scouts noticed messengers going between Presoren and Waywen. I believe they’re setting up for some sort of attack, so I positioned my men to cover all sides. I can see how those who came close to Goldram made it seem that we were preparing for an attack, but it’s quite the opposite. We couldn’t be sure your territory wasn’t involved with Presoren and Waywen, so we were just setting up defensively.”

While the King of Zav talked, the man beside him stood like a statue. His eyes were absently staring at the table, as if he wasn’t even listening. Cleve thought it to be strange unless the man was a servant, but he wasn’t dressed as such. Cleve was no tailor, but it was clear the man’s clothes were of high quality. His face and hair were too clean, his beard groomed too neatly.

The little boy was the opposite, incapable of standing still. Cleve felt him staring but let him be. He would never blame a child for his curiosity. More than anything, Cleve wondered why a child would be present during the meeting. The whole situation was confusing him the more he thought about it.

“You’re telling me you honestly believe your former allies might attack you?” Danvell let his skepticism come out in his tone.

“Make the treaty with us an alliance instead,” the King of Zav dared him. “If we’re attacked, your army will defend Zav as if it were your own land, and we’ll do the same for you. Now, if I’m requesting this, why would I lie?”

The little boy tugged on the King of Zav’s hand as he whimpered, “Father…”

“Not now, Harwin. We’ll be done soon.”

“We’ve received information that proves Waywen and Presoren are preparing for an attack as well,” Danvell said, coming around the table to stand before the King of Zav. “I would be happy to agree to an alliance with you.” He extended his hand.

Both rulers smiled as they shook and then bowed.

Cleve noticed Jessend and Lisanda whispering to each other. He couldn’t hear their words, but their tones were filled with excitement.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Danvell stated. Then he lowered his head solemnly. “I apologize for the incident with Harwin. After we get the contracts in order for the alliance, I would like to offer you a gift of ten Bastial steel swords.”

A shocked smile came across the King of Zav’s face. “I would be happy to accept your—”

“What does he mean, Father?” Harwin interrupted. “What incident with me?”

Just then, another man entered the room. With investigative eyes darting around, he cautiously walked toward the King of Zav. He seemed concerned when he saw Cleve and the Takary sisters in the corner, as if he thought they weren’t supposed to be there.

Then Cleve noticed stiffness in the man’s right leg. Terren, his uncle, had trained him to notice when a man concealed a knife at his ankle.

Why would he bring a weapon in here?
Cleve figured it was unwise to hold his tongue.

“Who is he?” Cleve blurted, pointing, even starting toward the man.

The King of Zav folded his arms, a scowl forming. “He’s my other trusted adviser and a good friend. Who are you?”

“Ignore him.” Danvell grabbed Cleve’s shoulder, whispering, “Don’t interrupt.”

“That man has a knife hidden at his ankle,” Cleve quickly whispered back.

“Are you certain?” Danvell asked, all sense of anger suddenly gone.

The King of Zav came toward them. Sensing the change in Danvell’s expression, he no longer seemed annoyed. “Is there a problem?”

With practiced quickness, the man with the knife bent down. He popped back up with two knives, handing one to the other man who was no longer staring at the table. Life was in his eyes, each of their faces hard with aggression.

One leapt at the King of Zav, while the other started toward Harwin. The little boy screamed, running along the wall to escape his pursuer. Cleve jumped over the table and slammed into the man chasing the poor child, squashing him between his shoulder and the wall.

The knife dropped, the man falling as well. Cleve bent to pick it up, ready to drive it into the attacker’s chest, only then noticing the blood on the man’s temple. He was knocked unconscious.

Cleve heard Danvell shouting for guards as he spun around to check on the other man with a knife. He and the King of Zav were in the middle of a struggle. Jessend was on her feet, cautiously approaching with her arms up defensively.

Is she insane?
The little princess would be trampled by the men fighting, likely to take the knife in her chest if she got in the middle of it.

Cleve found his opportunity when the struggle slowed as each man had hold of the knife, the King trying to prevent his attacker from driving it into his stomach.

“Why?” the ruler of Zav screamed. “Why?”

“You and Harwin need to die!” the man yelled back, spit escaping from between his clenched teeth.

Cleve drove his knife hard into the man’s belly, hearing a crash and glass shattering behind him just after the man collapsed. He took a moment to disarm the man he’d cut before turning to see what the noise was.

Just within the door was a guard of Goldram—Cleve recognized him as the new guard who didn’t want the Takary sisters inside. For some reason, the guard had purposefully knocked over a towering clock. The massive structure was now strewn across the closed door, thousands of glass shards all around it.

Why would he block the exit?

Then the guard drew his sword and hastily went toward the King of Goldram—his own king.

“What are you doing?” Danvell asked, backing up into the wall.

Jessend put herself between them, bending her knees with her arms out in preparation for an attack. She looked like a little mouse in comparison to the armored man before her.

“Move, Princess,” the guard threatened. “Both kings need to die, along with Harwin.”

Cleve, now armed with two knives, took Jessend’s place, pushing her back to make sure she was out of the way. She resisted at first, so he shoved her harder.

“Stay back,” he said, brandishing both knives at the guard in front of him.

The door was being slammed into the fallen clock from other palace guards trying to get in. “Your highness, are you alright?” someone shouted from behind it.

The traitor lunged at Cleve with an overhead swing of his sword. Unable to sidestep it in fear of the Takarys behind him being struck, Cleve crossed his daggers to intercept the blow.

Cleve kicked the traitor in the stomach as he’d done thousands of times in training. Against the man’s chain mail, it did nothing but send him back a step.

Guards were breaking the top of the door with their swords. Cleve knew he just needed to keep his enemy at bay and they soon would be inside the room. His attacker must’ve also realized this, for his aggression doubled in that moment.

He swung wildly from side to side as Cleve dodged and waited for an opportunity to strike back. But he found none. As desperate as the man was with his weapon, he still knew not to leave himself open for a counterattack. He was clearly well-trained, and he wasn’t about to allow Cleve to let this go any longer than it needed to.

Unable to defend himself much longer, Cleve had to create his own opportunity to strike, not something he’d practiced with daggers against a sword.

He threatened to throw one dagger, cocking back his arm after jumping away to create distance. It halted his attacker for a heartbeat, the man turning his shoulders inward in preparation.

But Cleve knew the dagger would have to strike the man in the face for it to do any harm, and his opponent was moving too quickly to be sure it would work. Instead, Cleve took a different risk. He started toward the false guard of Goldram.

The guard thrust his weapon at Cleve’s chest. Unable to deflect the blow with his daggers, Cleve had to know it was coming for his plan to work. Luckily, he did.

Moving to the side, the man’s sword caught Cleve’s shirt but not his flesh.

Cleve drove both daggers into the soft underbelly of the man’s chin.

The guard stumbled backward and fell, gasping as his sword slipped from his hands. Cleve picked up the sword intending to drive it through the man’s heart, but his protective chain mail threatened to prevent his death from being merciful. It was likely to take a few painful strikes before Cleve could pierce his heart.

So he stood over the man’s face, the sword raised high. But Cleve had the thought to look around first.

He found gaping eyes and the little boy shaking with terror. His father had his arm around him.

“It’ll be alright, Harwin,” the King of Zav said, trying to turn the child’s face away.

But the Prince wouldn’t take his eyes off Cleve.

Neither would anyone else.

“Look away,” he told them, the man at his feet still gasping for life. There was no use for him to be in pain, and his agony was only making the situation more traumatizing.

Everyone turned, Jessend taking the longest to do so. Then Cleve drove the man’s own sword down through his forehead, sliding it out and flipping him over when he was done so the others wouldn’t have to see.

The door finally cracked open. Four guards ran in, followed by more, and then some more. They circled around Cleve.

He dropped the sword to show his hands, the sign of giving in to their authority…at least in Kyrro.

“He’s not the enemy,” Danvell Takary said. His voice had none of the same urgency or mandate that Cleve had heard earlier. It was strained, as if his throat had been tightened by the incident. “They are.” Danvell pointed to the fallen bodies.

The man who’d attacked the King of Zav was dead in a puddle of his own blood, a long wound through his stomach. Cleve was surprised to see how deep it was. He didn’t realize he’d driven the dagger across the man’s stomach so violently.

Cleve figured the other one wasn’t dead, the one he’d slammed into the wall. He was certainly still unconscious, though.

“He should live.” Cleve pointed.

“Why did they try to kill you?” Danvell asked the King of Zav.

“I’m wondering that myself.” He had his arms around Harwin, kneeling down to hold the boy’s head against his chest.

“They must’ve been spies,” Danvell said.

“No, I’ve known them for years,” the King of Zav argued. “Your guard must’ve been a spy.”

“He certainly was, but your men were also.” Danvell’s voice was humbly quiet. “You must see that by now?”

“It can’t be possible!” The King of Zav was in disbelief, Harwin weeping loudly against him. “There must be something that would explain their actions besides that.”

Cleve caught Jessend’s attention with a glance. “We should bring Rek in here to question the one who’s still alive,” he said.

Meanwhile, Lisanda was holding onto her father, crying. He had his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the guards nearby. “Please make sure she gets whatever she needs, and take her to her room. Lisanda, I’ll visit as soon as I can.”

Lisanda kept her eyes at her feet as she wept, reaching out blindly for someone to take her hands. Two guards came to either side of her and steered her out.

“Father,” Jessend said, her tone the calmest of anyone’s. “Cleve is right. I brought a psychic who can get the truth out of the last survivor. He’s with Micah Vail right now.”

Fear struck Danvell’s face. “You brought a psychic into my palace?”

“He’s a close friend of Cleve’s…an ally,” Jessend argued. “He can help us.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” the King of Zav stood, “I also would like the psychic to question him.” He looked to Cleve. “It is true they can tell whether a man is lying?”

“Yes,” Cleve answered.

“But what else will he do?” Danvell asked worriedly. “What will he do to the rest of our minds?”

“Nothing,” Cleve said as calmly as possible. “He can't—”

“I want to go home!” Harwin blurted, sobbing.

“Is there a secure place Harwin can wait?” the King of Zav asked.

“I apologize for not offering sooner,” Danvell answered. “A team of guards will watch over him.”

He gestured at the men in the room. One nodded and came forward. He knelt in front of Harwin.

“Come with us. We’ll keep you safe, and your father will be with you soon.” The guard’s sweet tone made it clear that Harwin wasn’t the first child he’d spoken to.

The boy reluctantly left his father behind, whimpering as half of the guards from the room followed them.

Danvell approached Cleve, his hand extended with a sad smile. “I don’t know who you are, but let me offer you the warmest welcome to the Takary Palace.” Suddenly his mouth went flat. “But are you certain this psychic friend of yours isn’t dangerous?”