by Narro, B. T.
“You want their help.” Rek stated it like a fact. “Whoever they may be.”
“I do, but only because their company would be comforting, not valuable. With more people around, we’ll stand out like prostitutes in a training center.”
Rek took his hand off his chin. “Right, you don’t want to risk them being hurt. I understand.”
True. Cleve felt silly for trying to hide it from Rek. He nodded to show the Elf he was right.
They walked for half a mile without speaking until the silence began creating questions in Cleve’s mind. “You told me earlier that you changed the way the Fjallejon saw you. Does that also mean psychics can make themselves beautiful in others’ eyes, even if they’re not?” If anyone had answers to the questions that came with Reela, it would be Rek.
“Not even I can cure ugliness.” Rek turned to show Cleve a wry smile. “Yes, powerful psychics can slightly alter feelings. We can make people appear friendlier than they would normally. Mind you, the word I use is alter not change. If a woman already is beautiful in your eyes, I may be able to amplify that beauty, even spin it into lust. However, the best I can do with a woman who you have no interest in would be to make her slightly more attractive. In order to maintain the spell, I would have to use energy for it constantly. As soon as the spell was over, you would see her as your mind naturally would, which wouldn’t be much different.”
Cleve’s heart fluttered. So Reela is either constantly using psyche on me or the way she makes me feel is naturally happening without psyche? No, neither of those could be true. But would Rek lie to me about this? No, there would be no reason for that. Still, it doesn’t make sense.
Rek turned Cleve’s shoulder to get a better look at his face. Most of the Elf’s coffee-brown hair was tucked into his hood, but a few strands had come loose, glistening conspicuously. Rek looked concerned, and Cleve figured he must have had the same expression himself.
“You may figure our attractions should be easy to alter because of how quickly they can arise.” Rek subtly shook his head. “But that’s not the case.”
“This morning you made all my muscles convulse.” Cleve could hear frustration coming out with each word. “You’re telling me you can do that but you can’t make someone be attracted to you if they normally wouldn’t be?” He realized this was the answer he wanted. If Reela had used psyche on him then everything would make sense. But if that wasn’t the case, then it would open the door to new possibilities…possibilities he didn’t even want to consider.
“A slight attraction? Yes, I can do that. Staggering beauty or lust, however? No, I cannot, not to intelligent beings at least. The feelings we have for each other may seem to sway easily, but only fickle feelings like anger, joy, gratification, and being comfortable can be greatly manipulated.”
Cleve’s heart dropped into his stomach. He decided he didn’t want to hear anything else about it, but Rek wasn’t finished.
“If we truly believe someone to be beautiful, it will take far more than psyche to change that. Pain, however, comes and goes so easily. We can even feel it just by watching someone else being hurt. That unfortunately makes it one of the easier spells to learn.” His eyes steadied back on the twisting road ahead. He tucked his loose hair out of sight.
They walked at a lively pace, their footsteps echoing rhythmically up the sides of the mountains. Rek didn’t have much to say unless Cleve gave him a question. There was something about him that reminded Cleve of Reela, and it wasn’t just the shape of his eyes. There were other things as well: the shine of his hair from the few strands that continued to slip out from his hood, the way he walked with a slight roll of his shoulders.
The silence continued to produce questions. Although they weren’t about Reela, Cleve still knew he probably shouldn’t ask them. But his curiosity was nagging, getting stronger the longer they remained quiet. He knew it could be the only opportunity he’d get.
Eventually he just blurted it out. “What did King Welson tell you that he meant to keep secret? Was it something about my father?” He tightened his face in hesitation as he waited for Rek to answer.
Rek placed his hand on Cleve’s shoulder to stop him. The Elf was about half a head shorter than him, but the way he looked into Cleve’s eyes made Cleve feel like a child. Rek tilted his head curiously. His mouth remained flat, indifferent. He’s not trying to figure out how to answer; he’s wondering if he should.
“Some answers are best kept until the right time.” Rek’s voice was carefully sensitive. “Right now, all you need to know is our plan.” Rek removed his hand and picked up the pace. “Keep your mind on getting me in the same room as Welson Kimard and have faith. No man can touch me while I’m conscious. We’ll get there.”
Cleve felt like he’d just finished a duel. He was breathing heavily, and his lips were dry. He had a gulp from his water pouch. He tried to push his curiosity out of his mind but then a new concern came to him.
“What would you have me do if a guard recognizes you from afar and runs to the castle?”
“Have you ever heard of a warrior running away?” Rek snickered. “Their pride is stronger than common sense.” The comment was offensive yet true, Cleve knew, so he didn’t argue. “I left Kyrro City nearly twenty years ago,” Rek continued. “So it’s unlikely I’ll be recognized unless my hood comes down.”
Cleve was left to dwell on his own thoughts as they walked through the rest of the Fjallejon pathway in silence. The gravity of what they were about to attempt started to settle into his mind. Forcing our way past guards to get to the King could be looked at as an attempt to attack him. We could be put to death for that. A fear fell onto his heart. He tried his best to lift it, but it was too heavy. So he tried to bury that fear somewhere else where he couldn’t feel it. He was good at burying feelings he couldn’t lift but found no success in this case. It was there to stay.
The evening sun was beginning to set when hunger spoke through Rek’s belly with a grumble. “My body is used to eating by now,” he said shamefully with a hand on his stomach. “It’s not the hunger I’m concerned about but the lack of Bastial Energy that goes along with it.”
They’d reached the northern side of the Academy’s walls. Food hadn’t crossed Cleve’s mind as of late, but keeping his psychic fueled was crucial. “They expected me back this evening at the latest. Even without a break we won’t be there before dusk, so we may as well rest and eat under the cover of these high walls.”
“No, let’s go on.” Rek’s shoulders sank with a sigh. “If Welson sends his guards and they find us before we enter the city, I won’t have enough energy to keep them charmed all the way to the castle. The closer we can get before being detected, the better our chances. I can chew and walk.” He extended his hand.
Cleve handed him their sack of dried meats.
As they came around the Academy’s walls, there was a clear view of the castle sitting in the center of Kyrro City. Suddenly Cleve’s fear became twice as heavy. “I may as well eat something now also.” While I still can. “Let’s hope we don’t cramp when it matters most.”
When they were halfway to Kyrro City, the sky was red with the last light of the low sun. There were no trees along the path, no hills, nothing to hide behind. With little reason to travel between the Academy and the capital, there were no more than two people they’d already passed a mile back. So when a clump of five or six marched toward them with the light of the city on their backs, Cleve thought they might be guards. He and Rek stared ahead in complete silence, squinting for a better look.
As the distance from the King’s men closed, what had appeared to be legs morphed into swords hanging from their belts. Definitely guards, Cleve said to himself, suddenly feeling naked without his sword or quarterstaff.
Chapter 36: Sweep
CLEVE
“I’ll handle this,” Rek said with pride. “A simple misdirection to the Academy should suffice.”
Cleve nodded but felt his nerves
getting the better of him. While the Elf might be confident, Cleve was not. He trusted himself in a battle, but this was nothing near that. This was lying, deceit—something he was never skilled at.
Time slowed during the last mile between them. Cleve had no weapon but his bagged bow and not enough arrows for each of the guards if their plan went awry.
“Remember not to sound nervous,” Rek said, “or they’ll be more suspicious and harder to manipulate with psyche.”
Cleve’s throat was as dry as the dirt crunching under each step. He could stand in front of hundreds of people and perform stunts with weapons as long as he didn’t have to speak. This was the opposite. He would only be speaking—lying. He took a swig from his leather pouch, swished, swallowed, and took another.
Night seemed to have come quickly, falling upon them like a shadow. By the time the guards were close, their faces were impossible to see, which means mine is hidden as well, Cleve realized with a bit of relief.
“Are you looking for Cleve?” he shouted, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t waiver.
There was no response.
Cleve felt a dry swallow move down his throat and continued. “He’s hiding at the Academy, told us what happened, so we left to tell the King.”
One warrior led the rest of the guards. “Where in the Academy?”
“He probably left by now, but he was in his house,” Cleve answered, lowering his face in a way he hoped was inconspicuous.
“Who are you?” the leading man asked, stepping closer. “Put a light on him.” The hands of a robed mage behind the warrior began to glow.
Rek held his hand forward. “That’s not necessary. We’re no one, just a concerned teacher and student.”
The mage’s hands lowered as the lead guard spoke. “Thank you for the help.” The King’s men continued past without another glance.
This may actually work, Cleve thought. Confidence lifted his spirit until he noticed Rek nervously peering back at the guards. “You think they’ll come back for us?” Cleve asked.
“Perhaps. If one person becomes suspicious, that’s all it takes to sway the group.”
Finally, they were nearing the shanty houses along the outer edge of Kyrro City. Rek gave one last look to the King’s men, who were now a couple miles back. “It looks as if the group has split. Some are moving back toward us.”
Cleve turned to confirm the bad news. He had remarkable eyesight, but with just the light of the moon it was difficult to be certain what he saw. Staring, he strained his eyes until they began to fatigue. “You’re wrong,” he corrected, his heart sinking. “They’re all coming back. We’d better hurry.”
Rek sighed, and then they doubled their pace.
Farther into Kyrro City, streets formed between rows of houses. Crooked alleyways were also created from thin gaps between the small homes, connecting the streets and giving countless possible routes to the castle. But there was a major problem: Unlike the Academy where the roads were straight, each street here was curved like a finger at rest, making it impossible to see if a guard awaited ahead.
Cleve tugged on Rek’s shirt to get his attention as they crouched in an alley to catch their breath. “Can you sense where the guards are?”
“No, too many minds around us. I can’t tell which belong to Welson Kimard’s men.”
Cleve missed his blunt quarterstaff. He tried to imagine how he would stop a guard if Rek’s psyche failed. The image was messy. With his only weapons being his fists and bow, there would be blood.
The closer to the castle, the more guards patrolled. He and Rek snuck down alleyways to look for unpopulated streets. But the deeper they went, the more footsteps they started hearing behind them.
Dammit! We’ve gopher-holed in, and the tunnel has collapsed behind us, Cleve thought. The castle was still a mile ahead. He was beginning to have doubts, but it was too late to turn back now.
“If one guard sees us, all he has to do is shout and we’ll be swarmed before I can assess the situation,” Rek said. “It’s time to force our way in so we can maintain control and avoid surprises.”
Cleve knew he was right, but it didn’t make the idea of being in the open any easier. “You have enough energy to get us inside?”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Rek smiled as if excited, then calmly dusted himself off and stepped out from the alley. Cleve followed cautiously, utterly nervous about Rek’s strange reaction to the terrible situation.
Cleve had his arms through the straps of his bow bag so he could wear it like a backpack, freeing his hands, which he figured he would need.
A swarm of thoughts buzzed around his mind. Hurt them only if necessary. I need a blunt weapon. Will the bag work? No. Look for something. A guard could be around this corner, be ready. Check behind. No one there. Need a weapon. No, not the bow, something blunt. What about that? Yes, that. There was an elderly woman using a broom to sweep the dirt away from her door. It looked nearly as old as her.
“Rek, get me that broom?” Cleve pointed.
Rek understood, walking straight to her without a moment of thought. “Madam, can I have that broom?”
“No! Get away!” She swatted at Rek’s reaching hand.
Cleve was shocked to see her reaction. Had Rek forgotten to use psyche or something?
“Relax.” Rek stepped back, holding out both palms defensively. “Calm yourself.”
“Try and take my broom, will you? Get out of here!” The woman swung it wildly as she advanced toward him. “My son bought me this broom!”
“Please lower your voice,” Rek said, ducking under a slow swing to his head. “Keep the broom. We’re leaving.”
“You don’t come back!” She threw the broom at Rek and stormed off into her house.
“Well, there’s your broom.” Rek pointed at it on the ground between them. “I should’ve known that an old woman sweeping the road in the middle of the night had lost her mind.”
Cleve knelt to retrieve it. “You’re sure that’s the reason you failed? You have to understand I’m far less confident now after seeing you flee from an old woman with a broom.” He was completely serious.
Rek frowned at him. “I have no sway over the insane. As long as there’s still a mind behind the armor of the guard, we’ll be fine.”
Cleve felt frustration coming loose within him. Watching Rek fail had caused him to lose all confidence in the Elf. “As long as my hood doesn’t come down, as long as the Fjallejons don’t send a pigeon,” Cleve imitated Rek, letting out his anger. “As long as I remain conscious, as long as the guards aren’t crazy…I’m beginning to think this whole thing is insane. One simple surprise and it’s all over.”
Rek’s mouth tightened. His eyes rose to meet Cleve’s. “My hood hasn’t come down, and it won’t. The Fjallejons clearly didn’t send a pigeon. Remaining conscious is easier than breathing. And Welson Kimard wouldn’t keep someone insane on his staff.” Rek let out a slow breath and calmly put his hand on Cleve’s shoulder. His face loosened, and Cleve could feel himself relaxing.
“If there was a better option, we would’ve taken it,” Rek continued. “I’m sure neither of us would choose the life of a fugitive, and even worse would be joining Tenred to see to the destruction of our home. This is what we need to do, and it’s going to work—there’s someone ahead,” Rek said, interrupting himself and quickly readying his hands. But after a breath, they found it was just a man in common clothing. He walked by holding jugs of water against his body, too preoccupied for even a glance.
“I suppose you’re right,” Cleve said, not sure what else he could do but stay with Rek. Trusting such an important task to someone else had made him uneasy. Too much depended on them getting to the King, and so little control was in his hands.
The street straightened, allowing the sight of maybe fifty houses ahead before they twisted out of view. Cleve saw two people walking their way. From the silhouette of a helmet and sword, the man nearest had to be a guard. His face was
difficult but possible to see in the faint light from the windows of the houses, which means he can see ours as well.
The guard’s walk slowed, and he seemed to strain his neck forward as if to get a better look at them. Cleve quickly turned to Rek to see what he made of it, his heart going wild with dread.
Rek didn’t look calm anymore. He whispered, “If any guard recognizes me, it’ll be the one in front of us. Did you see his limp? That’s Colin, or Colimp as he came to be known. As a child, I severed two of his toes with a dagger by accident. He wanted nothing more than to scream at me for it every time he saw me during all the years I lived in the castle.”
Cleve turned back to the guard and found he was at least still walking toward them. “Has he recognized your face yet?”
“I’ll tell you once I’m in range,” Rek answered, but then Colimp’s neck snapped back into place and he stopped abruptly.
“He knows it’s you,” Cleve said regretfully, for he knew what was about to happen.
Colimp spun to sprint away from them, shouting something unintelligible. He galloped awkwardly, his sheathed sword banging against his left leg with each hop.
He must be stopped before he can tell anyone. Cleve was off even before his thought was completed. Running with an enormous bag on his back and a broom in hand was restricting, to say the least, but his speed was still much greater than Colimp’s. His legs tingled with hot Bastial Energy. He heard Rek’s footsteps behind him, but they were too slow to keep up and quickly quieted.
Closer, Colimp’s shouts still were impossible to comprehend. The words were mashed together as if the strain of running had disabled his tongue.
Closer still, Cleve might have been able to throw the broom just as the old lady did, and it would do about the same amount of good. Colimp’s words finally could be understood: “He’s here! Rek is here! Tell the King!” Cleve looked over Colimp’s shoulder to see that another guard in the distance was now running to meet them.
