The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1)

by David F. Farris

  here lies a legend.

  rest in peace,

  ataway debonicus kawi

  925–960 k.h.

  26

  Bryson vs. Ossen

  Over the course of two days, Bryson and his team had been traveling toward Necrosis Valley from the east. His original plan to wait a couple days before intercepting Prince Storshae’s route had been changed by the unfortunate encounter with Grand Director Poicus.

  This time, there was no road to follow. And why would there be? Even in the Dark Realm, who would voluntarily enter a place named ‘Necrosis Valley’?

  A day ago, they arrived at a vast crater that had been blasted into the earth. They situated their tent close to its edge, which had a sharp slope … although it didn’t plunge straight down.

  They could see for dozens of miles across the crater—though its opposite edge was far out of sight—as well as miles to the left and right. Since the land around the crater was flat and barren, seeing Storshae’s approach wouldn’t be difficult. And even if Bryson’s party attacked by night, Himitsu could conjure his black flames to mask their presence.

  It was half-past five on Wednesday morning, marking the approach of first-day. The Jestivan and Vistas were wide awake, which they had been for a couple hours. Storshae and his men should have been arriving soon, and they had to be prepared. However, their alertness was mostly because of nerves.

  They lay on their stomachs in silence next to the ledge, staring through gaps in Himitsu’s flaming black wall. They were spread out widely—each positioned to serve a specific purpose.

  Bryson was in a spot that allowed him to look across the canyon in search of the main unit. Jilly and Toshik were on the flanks, where they could scan the level ground to their left and right.

  Even in the middle of his own kingdom, Bryson didn’t think Storshae would be stupid enough to funnel all of his soldiers into the crater and surrender the high ground. He predicted that Suadade would send a few of his common foot soldiers to encircle the perimeter of the crater.

  It proved to be a correct theory. As a hint of daylight stretched over the horizon, Jilly spotted shadowy figures in the distance. They were several lackadaisical soldiers who were probably too tired from their journey.

  “Soldiers from the north, captain,” Jilly announced—quietly, thankfully.

  By this point, Bryson was used to Jilly calling him captain. He just wished she wouldn’t say it like that. It made her sound like she wasn’t taking this seriously, but playing war instead.

  Bryson scanned the floor of the crater, and as the day brightened, he saw a thin trail of dust in the distance. Soon, it revealed a carriage draped in deep burgundy trundling across the crust. Two ebony horses led it with a man holding the reins.

  Bryson looked to his right and gave a nod to Himitsu. The only way they were going to do this effectively was by ambush. They were already concealed, so now, it came down to timing. This kind of tactical maneuvering was Himitsu’s specialty, so it wasn’t a surprise that this was his plan.

  “How many soldiers are on our level?” Bryson asked.

  “I think I see twelve,” she replied.

  “Toshik?”

  “Nothing to our left.”

  If Bryson was to go by the information the young unable back at the teleplatforms had told him, that meant Storshae had dispatched most or all of his soldiers up here, and only Storshae, General Ossen, and Olivia were in that carriage … and Storshae’s Bewahr, of course.

  Jilly waited a few more minutes, allowing the enemies to come closer. Once she was satisfied, she signaled to Bryson. “You’re up,” he said to Himitsu.

  The slender Passion Jestivan rose to his feet. “Remember to be quick. My energy is running thin.”

  “Quick?” Bryson repeated. “You forget who you’re talking to.”

  Himitsu smirked as he leaned his weight aggressively onto his back leg, bending his knee nearly to the ground. Taking in one of the deepest inhales Bryson had ever seen, Himitsu’s upper body sprung forward as he blew out a blast of Passion Energy into the wall of flames he had conjured to conceal them. A trail of fire shot out the other side, down the cliff’s sloping wall and across the bottom of the barren valley.

  “Go,” Himitsu instructed.

  A space in Himitsu’s original wall opened, and Bryson shot through it. He plunged down the cliff like a hawk from the sky before sprinting across the crater floor to the other side. He jumped behind a boulder the Jestivan had identified the day before. Himitsu’s covering fire had dissipated, but Bryson judged that he had concealed himself in time. He had sprinted a good three miles in no more than ten seconds. Debo would have been proud. Although, he would have laughed at how winded Bryson was.

  The group atop the cliff was now exposed, as according to plan. All Bryson could do was wait for his signal. He couldn’t allow his eyes to leave the approaching carriage … no matter how much he wanted to make sure his friends executed their roles correctly.

  Himitsu, Jilly, and Toshik stood next to each other at the edge of the crater. Jilly stood in the middle, while the two taller Jestivan flanked her, each a few yards apart.

  Toshik leaned casually on the handle of his sword, the point of its blade stuck into the dirt. Jilly’s sunhat was on, but in the dim light, it was probably more for an intimidating look—or what she thought was intimidating. Himitsu stood tall, but casually—though not as insouciant as Toshik. Vistas had fled out of sight as instructed, for he was useless in combat.

  There was a row of four soldiers in front, followed by another row of four behind them. This group of eight stepped apart, allowing the third row of four to step through to the front. These were the bigger guns—two corporals, a lieutenant, and a major.

  “I suggest you move,” the major said, smiling wryly at the young faces.

  They didn’t.

  The major waved his hand in a shooing motion. “Run along now.”

  The Jestivan continued to stand in silence.

  “You’re going to regret it if you don’t get out of our way,” the major threatened.

  Once he finally realized they weren’t going to budge, he ordered his men to attack.

  The first row of foot soldiers charged, their burgundy coats flapping behind them as they ran with swords drawn. The Jestivan had been expecting something a little more refined, such as telekinesis, but they couldn’t complain.

  The man who targeted Himitsu caught a fist of flames to his stomach, which then engulfed his entire body. Another approached Jilly, who effortlessly slipped past his slashing sword and knocked him to the ground with a twirling kick to the back of his head.

  The two men who charged Toshik fell even quicker than the rest. Before they could register what was happening, their heads were blinking in the dirt, decapitated by a single swipe from Toshik’s sword. Then he distorted into a blur of color. When he returned to his original spot, he smiled sardonically at the four other foot soldiers, who looked down to see intestines spilling from the clean slashes across their stomachs.

  Himitsu, Jilly, and Toshik didn’t break their cool demeanor as the four higher ranks gaped at the carnage. “We have an issue up here,” said the major, his eye briefly shifting to burgundy. “Eight men are down.”

  ***

  Bryson was still watching the carriage, unsure of what was happening above. Then the horses stopped trotting along—the signal he was waiting for. The back curtains opened up as three men stepped down. One of them was easily recognizable as Dev Prince Storshae.

  Ossen was identifiable by the general’s insignia on his burgundy cape. He also matched King Vitio’s description of him: old, yet fit and robust. That left Storshae’s Bewahr as the third man. But his ordinary height and rather scrawny build made that kind of hard to believe.

  “The situation is critical,” Bryson heard a voice explain to Storshae.

  “How critical?” asked the prince.

  “Well, um, we’ve been taken prisoner.�
��

  “By whom?”

  There was grunting, and then a squeal of panic. “He says he’s a Jestivan from the Adren Kingdom. And he has demands.”

  “Very well then,” Storshae said. “And what is the request?”

  “They want … Olivia. The girl in the carriage.”

  Storshae cracked a smile. “Indeed. By all means, invite them to come down here.”

  “He says he’s going to kill us.”

  “That would serve you right—a dozen grown men cut down by … children.”

  As soon as the negotiations began, Bryson had snuck into the back of the carriage. Now he stared at his dearest friend’s unmoving body with a look of despair. He knelt next to Olivia with tears of rage forming in his eyes as he took in every scar and bruise on her skin, every hole and cut in her clothing, and the outline of her ribs poking through her malnourished frame. It was as if she was lying on her deathbed.

  Part of him wanted to march straight outside and inflict as much agonizing pain as he possibly could to those three men—even if it would surely lead to his death. But as he continued to stare at Olivia, her face, impassive even in unconsciousness, reminded him to keep his composure. He gently scooped her up, noticing the drastic difference in her weight. Even still, he wouldn’t be able to reach high speed percentages while carrying her. He didn’t have the balance or strength training for that yet. He had to count on his fellow Jestivan to give him enough time to get away.

  The sun was now a quarter of the way over the horizon. “Are you coming down here or not?” Storshae was roaring. Fonos stood next to him with his eyes closed. Then the Bewahr disappeared. Storshae whirled around toward the sound of an abrupt collision behind him. Bryson was on his back in the dirt. Bewahr Fonos stood in front of him, one open palm extended.

  ***

  “Something’s gone wrong,” Himitsu murmured.

  “Wh—?” Toshik started to ask, and then was arm-barred by the major and flipped to the ground. Then he whirled and struck Himitsu with an energy blast that knocked him over the edge of the cliff.

  Jilly ran at the brute of a man, but Toshik leapt to his feet and cut her off. He looked down at his Charge with forbidding eyes and instructed. “Run.”

  It was a rare look of menace in Toshik’s eyes—so rare, it seemed bizarre. And it only took Jilly’s life being in immediate danger for it to be unmasked.

  Jilly removed her sun hat, allowing it to hang down her back. She looked up, matching his sternness. “No.”

  While they argued, the major freed the other three officers. Ignoring Jilly, the four of them advanced on Toshik in a semicircle, forcing him to retreat from his Charge. “GO!” Toshik shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Meanwhile, Himitsu scrambled to the top of the cliff. Exhausted, he leaned forward with his hands on his knees and contemplated what to do. He was almost out of his Passion Energy, and although the training he had received from Passion Director Venustas and Olivia did help, he still had a lot of improvement to make in regards to head-to-head combat.

  Then a huge blast of wind kicked up dirt, blinding him. Wiping the burning grit from his eyes, he saw Jilly standing next to Toshik, whose face was black with rage. Himitsu wearily stumbled toward the fray.

  ***

  On the floor of the crater, Bryson stood swaying with Olivia in his arms. Bewahr Fonos gazed at the boy, intrigued.

  As for Prince Storshae, he was on the verge of a fit of laughter. “This was your plan?” he asked.

  Bryson didn’t answer. He looked down at Olivia’s battered body and Meow Meow’s sleeping, exhausted face. The rage was boiling over.

  “Your plan was to ambush the most dangerous warriors in the Dev Kingdom? A bunch of teenagers? You think you’re Mendac? And that’s Thusia you’re holding?”

  Ironic. Little did Storshae know, it was the son of Mendac he was talking to. Bryson’s fury intensified at the sound of his father’s name. But when he spoke, his voice was cold and controlled. “You’re right. I’m not Mendac, but I can end you the same way he ended your father.”

  Fonos teleported and connected with a vicious punch to Bryson’s chest, knocking Olivia from his arms and sending him skidding a good ten yards across the blasted earth. The boy clutched at his chest as he staggered to his feet.

  Bryson knew he was being stupid, but he itched with a compulsion to attack. If he only landed a few blows on Storshae, it would be worth it …

  He tried to clear his head. If he stalled long enough, maybe Toshik, Jilly, and Himitsu could win their battles and then come to help. But even then? The Gefal could take out their whole group himself.

  “Let me kill him, Prince Storshae,” General Ossen begged.

  Storshae’s eyes shifted sideways to his right-hand man.

  “I watched a Jestivan wreak havoc on our kingdom many years ago,” Ossen continued. “That man, Mendac, is the most hated person to our people. You were too young and cannot remember it. So please, this will be the closest I’ll ever get to being able to avenge our kingdom.”

  The prince thought about it for a second more before saying, “Go ahead.”

  The general’s eyes widened at the opportunity. As he advanced on Bryson, Fonos teleported back to Storshae’s side.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” he asked.

  “He’s just a boy,” Storshae replied.

  Bryson carefully watched the approaching general. His burgundy cape was adorned with silver and gold medals. He swallowed with difficulty, trying to compose himself. He had sparred with Debo many times, but this was a fight to the death. If he allowed his mind to wander toward anything that didn’t involve his immediate enemy, he would die.

  “I enjoyed beating the snot out of your friend there,” Ossen said with a sneer. “I don’t know why you would want her back. The smell is putrid.”

  In any other circumstance, Bryson would have attacked at full speed by now, but here, he couldn’t, not with Storshae and Fonos looking on. He was going to have to fight a technique-based battle with Ossen. He couldn’t show his cards.

  “It will feel so good to kill a Jestivan,” Ossen said with a scary thirst.

  Ossen threw a punch, but that wasn’t what Bryson was worried about. He was more focused on the two rocks levitating in the periphery of his vision. He hadn’t forgotten how Archaic General Inias was murdered at the Generals’ Battle. He parried the punch with his forearm as the rocks plunged at him from the left and right. He extended both arms to the side, and as the projectiles landed in his grasp, he swung them forward, sandwiching them against Ossen’s head.

  Ossen stumbled backward, clutching at his ears as blood gushed out. Before the man had a chance to recover, Bryson thrust his right knee into the general’s face, spun, and swung his extended leg down into Ossen’s back like an executioner’s axe. Both connected, but he was attacking too rapidly, and Ossen swept the young Jestivan’s ankle from underneath him.

  As Bryson fell parallel to the ground, Ossen grabbed his face and thrust the back of his head into the crust. The boy let out a muffled, agonized shout, but he countered by grabbing Ossen’s wrist and emitting a surge of electricity. He had Princess Shelly to thank for this newly gained tool.

  Ossen’s grasp weakened, allowing Bryson to kick up his legs, grab Ossen’s neck between his calves, and toss him to the side. Ossen slid a couple yards on his left hand and both feet—a flawless recovery.

  “The irony,” Prince Storshae remarked to his Bewahr. “Seems the boy’s from the Intel Kingdom, just like Mendac was.”

  Standing upright, Ossen smiled. “Oh, that makes this kill even sweeter.” A trio of daggers shot out from beneath his jacket.

  Glancing left and right for projectiles, Bryson saw the daggers too late. He dodged two, but the last one plunged into his left shoulder. He cringed as he clutched at the dagger’s handle and ripped it out. Then he unknowingly made another terrible error—he threw his hoodie to the side.

  The moment Ossen saw t
his, he flicked his hand, and the jacket clotheslined Bryson, dragging him across the floor before slamming him into a boulder.

  “Do you see that on his chest?” Storshae asked Fonos.

  The Bewahr narrowed his eyes.

  Bryson was now pinned by his own hoodie. He pried hopelessly at the jacket, his vision dimming as he futilely gasped for air.

  Ossen stood a good fifteen feet away, wearing a wide smirk. He had three more daggers in his hand. “Let’s make this even more fun,” he teased. “Target practice? I won’t even use my telekinesis, for throwing will prove a little more . . . unpredictable.” He sent a blade flying with a flick of his wrist, and all Bryson could do was squirm and watch helplessly as it soared toward him.

  ***

  On the rim of the crater, one of the corporals lay dead in the dirt. The other was pressing Himitsu hard as his arms became heavy. The Jestivan’s movements were getting slower, and the corporal could see this. He recklessly pressed forward as Himitsu began to lose his footing.

  Himitsu jumped over a sweeping kick and grabbed the man’s shoulder as he landed. Yanking the Dev officer into a hunched position, Himitsu heaved his knee into his stomach. The corporal let out a hoarse groan as he slumped to the ground. As Himitsu swung a boot toward the fallen man’s prone head, the corporal sent a dagger flying. Himitsu bent sideways, but the blade slashed his cheek. He put his hand to his face to observe the damage. While gazing at his blood-soaked fingers, he made the decision.

  Wanting to have some Passion Energy to help Toshik and Jilly with the two higher ranks, he had been storing a tiny amount. Now he realized that he didn’t have that luxury. So when the corporal extended his hand to fire another dagger, Himitsu grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward. He squeezed the man’s face with his other hand as black flames engulfed the corporal’s head. The bloodcurdling screams lasted for a few seconds before the Dev officer collapsed to the ground. Himitsu dropped to his knees and gazed weakly over at his two teammates.

  Neither the lieutenant nor major had flanked the two Jestivan. They attacked in the same pattern again and again. The lieutenant would fling a dagger at Jilly. Then when Toshik parried the blade, not trusting his Charge to defend herself, the major would let loose a blast of Dev energy at the young swordsman. Toshik’s face and minimal armor were scorched and stained with his blood.