Bastial Energy (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 1)

by Narro, B. T.

  When Zoke showed him how to separate the good meat from the inedible, they each held a piece over the fire with their daggers.

  “It smells wonderful,” Vithos commented.

  I’m sure it does, Zoke thought. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard of meat smelling good.

  With suddenly wide eyes, Vithos seemed to be struck by guilt. “If you were wondering,” Vithos added with a touch of regret.

  “I don’t wonder about smells. It’s impossible to wonder about something when you can’t imagine it.”

  Vithos slowly brought his hand to his chin, staring into the fire for a breath. “So, what do you wonder about then?”

  “Many things, most recently about how everything would be different if Krepps had no taste for Slugari meat.” He’d spent many nights thinking about that. It was too hard to imagine what he would be like if he could smell and craved the meat like others—impossible even. He could wonder about it for hours, staying awake in bed, but actually imagining it couldn’t be done. But to imagine everyone was a gurradu like him? Now, that was easy. He knew what life was like as a gurradu.

  “You may as well wonder what Ovira would be like without Krepps, then.” Vithos paused to give the meat on his dagger a poke from his clawless finger, testing its firmness before returning it over the fire. “From what I understand, the Krepps’ goal throughout history has been searching for Slugari. If you took that away, Ovira would be unimaginably different. Doe and Haemon wouldn’t have the cause they needed to join the Krepps and merge their tribes, so those two would have to find some other way to get revenge on their kind.” He rested his free hand on his chin again, scrunching his mouth toward his nose like a thought had gotten stuck. “I would still be with my own kind.” He shook his head as he tried to speak. A few words started to come out but none completed. Finally he said, “I can’t even imagine what that life would be like. I’m trying, but I just can’t. I don’t know enough about Elves.”

  “I understand what that’s like,” Zoke added, knowing Vithos would understand what he meant.

  The Elf glanced at the two holes that were Zoke’s nose and nodded.

  They finished cooking their meat in silence and began to eat. The meat wasn’t pork but still delicious, bursting with flavor incomparable to the kupota. Zoke’s thoughts turned to his old leaders as he ripped the meat with his claws and mashed through it with his many sharp teeth. Doe and Haemon’s aggression toward their own kind was the only similarity between the real world and the imaginary one Vithos described where Krepps didn’t exist.

  “Doe and Haemon would still do something to disrupt Ovira, even without Krepps aiding them,” Zoke muttered to the fire. “They don’t seem capable of living without control over everything.”

  He realized then that his hatred for them had deepened greatly since he’d left. Not only did their aggression against the Elves infuriate Zoke, he felt completely betrayed that they were ready to kill him just for coming back—for following the orders they’d given him. He tore off a big chunk of meat with a sudden voracious appetite.

  “You might be surprised to hear that they used to be in the lowest of ranks among the Slugari colony.” Vithos lifted an eyebrow to catch Zoke’s attention. “I’ve heard the story they’ve created—of them being exiled for a crime they didn’t commit. It’s false. The truth is that Doe and Haemon were called ground-breakers. At least that was the closest translation they had for it in Kreppen. It was the role given to the lowest, weakest Slugari and involved exploring uncharted land underground and above. If you dug wrong, the dirt above you could collapse. If you were seen by a Krepp above ground, obviously you’d be hunted down. If Krepps weren’t so dangerous, the Slugari might have had different roles for their weaklings and even might have lived above ground. We can’t say what Doe and Haemon would’ve been doing or what would’ve become of them in this imaginary world where Krepps didn’t hunt them.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of this version of their history,” Zoke said, feeling childlike enthusiasm. “What else do you know?”

  Vithos had just bitten off a piece of meat and now was hastily chewing it. He lifted a finger and forced a swallow. “Only what I could pry out of them during moments of weakness. Keeping in a secret that big is like holding your breath—the longer you do it, the more your inner voice screams at you to let it out. They told me they were treated worse than any other Slugari, and that they were small. They hated it, couldn’t stand being in the lowest of ranks and came together from that shared attitude.

  “Eventually, they discovered the eppil plant somewhere underground, in some cavity they dug into. They claimed they were attacked for their discovery, although I could tell that wasn’t quite true, not that I know what happened instead. They said they barely escaped with seeds they would later use to grow more eppils, which led to their size and power.” Vithos stopped and took another bite. He showed no signs of continuing.

  “That’s it?” Zoke longed to hear of something more complete. The Elves were gone. He knew the ending to that story but not the beginning or the dramatic surprise—there was one in every Krepp story. Now Doe and Haemon were controlling Ovira, and he still didn’t know the beginning to that story and especially not how it would end.

  “The Slugari should be able to fill the gaps,” Vithos said. With that, the Elf finished his meal and lay down.

  Zoke did the same. With a full stomach and flat, soft ground, sleeping through the night was easy.

  Zoke awoke to the sounds of fire and the cool morning breeze against his now moist face. His leather shorts were damp and clingy, but he didn’t care. He felt rested and fresh.

  After a yawn, he realized Vithos was cooking more of the fox meat.

  “You’re still hungry?” he asked in disbelief.

  “This is so we don’t have to cook it later. We may not be able to make another fire before it spoils. I’m almost finished. You ready to leave?”

  “Yes,” Zoke answered, getting up to stretch his legs. The question, though, suddenly made him aware of the dream he’d awakened from. “Are you ready to say goodbye?” Someone had asked him that. Was it Zeti? Yes it was her, he remembered now. Vithos was being buried. “Yes, I’m ready,” Zoke remembered answering. Then Zeti had started to sing. Her tones were strong and confident as she hummed the same background he’d dreamed of during his night in the Elven village. Again, he’d awakened before hearing himself sing the melody.

  He thought as hard as he could, but the melody still escaped him. But then suddenly, and with great satisfaction, he at least remembered the song. It’s the song of the dead! When we buried mother, Zeti and I sang the background and Ruskir sang the melody.

  It was the only burying he’d been to. Ruskir taught him and Zeti what to sing, explaining that the Krepp closest to the deceased would sing the melody while other close friends or family sang the background. Zeti was only two—pra durren, and he was six—pra durren, so it must’ve sounded no better than steel against stone.

  Why am I dreaming about that? Zoke ran his coarse palm over his scalp and decided not to wonder about it. Dreams about death were always considered an ill omen.

  Vithos and Zoke walked eight or nine miles before the urge came to break their fast from the big meal they’d had the night before. They looked for a good place to stop. Walking south had brought them to a ledge too tall to climb down. It overlooked a wide path that was created between the hills they walked on and the edge of the forest.

  “South of that forest is where I sensed the Slugari,” Vithos said. The trees stood just taller than their ledge, so Zoke could not see over them.

  “How far do the trees go?”

  “A few miles, if my memory is correct.”

  They ate the rest of the fox meat under the shade of a tree on the hillside, looking out across Satjen. “This land would serve the tribe well,” Zoke said, thinking mostly about the thousands of trees they could use. The thick grass beneath his bare feet was some
thing he could easily get used to as well.

  “Slepja used to be more like this, but after all the years of thousands of Krepps living off it, it has become nearly as barren as Kilmar.”

  They stared south as they quietly finished their meals.

  A sound…and voices? Zoke strained his ears. It was coming from the east. He knew himself to have good hearing, so he figured Vithos hadn’t noticed it yet. He walked toward the edge of the hillside to investigate. Vithos stood to follow.

  “What is it?” the Elf asked.

  “Lower your voice. You can’t sense them? Someone’s coming.”

  Vithos whispered, “No, they must be too far for my psyche.”

  Zoke and Vithos lowered their bodies to the ground right by the edge, waiting for someone to emerge from the trees.

  “There are four of them,” Vithos said, holding out his palm at nothing Zoke could see.

  Suddenly three Humans and a familiar-looking Krepp came from the trees, turning onto the wide path just below Zoke and Vithos. Zoke could hear that they were speaking common tongue. Though he knew the language well, they were too far away for him to understand their words.

  “We should follow them,” Vithos whispered.

  Zoke knew he was right. They were the first Human that Zoke had seen who weren’t a crude drawing, and this was definitely the first time he’d known of Humans sharing company with a Krepp. This was something important. He could feel it.

  “Any idea who the Humans are or what they’re doing with a Krepp?”

  “No, and they’re too far for my psyche to pick up anything besides their presence.”

  The group continued west, so Vithos and Zoke followed, walking along the northern hills to stay out of view.

  When the Humans stopped for food, so did Vithos and Zoke. When one needed to make solid waste, so did Vithos. When another urinated on a tree, so did Zoke. They had no notion of how long they would need to follow before finding out what they were doing, but Zoke was prepared to stay behind them as long as it took. Humans and Krepps together—it had to mean something.

  Chapter 41: Chaos

  CLEVE

  There were two parts to the plan Rek had devised: getting past the thick ironbark door and then making it to the King, who was likely to be deep within the castle and highly protected. When Rek first introduced it, Cleve figured the rodents were a metaphor of some kind, but soon it was clear he meant to use rats, literally. Cleve wasn’t the only one to express concerns, as no one in their party had any experience with rats being helpful, but Rek won their trust eventually.

  Psychics of the King’s Guard had taken care of any unwanted creatures within the castle, but the surrounding houses didn’t have the same luxury. There were independent psychics who made money from their ability to control pests, but many households weren’t aware of their extra inhabitants or didn’t care to pay for their removal. Rek was about to do many of them a favor, he explained.

  When all were ready, Rek closed his eyes, lowered his head, and lifted both arms. The sound of the creatures coming toward them was not so much a sound as an incomprehensible feeling. To Cleve, it was the same chilling experience as stepping into a dark room and feeling something move even though no one is around. It was that, but amplified so great that it completely paralyzed him. Everything seemed to stop. It was like knowing an earthquake was about to hit any second.

  Some feeling returned to Cleve’s legs when they came into view—hundreds of rats scampering into the street all at once. He backed away from Rek and found others doing the same. More and more and still more kept coming. They swarmed at Rek’s feet, a sea of brown and black fur, full of short-lived waves as the rats crawled on top of each other to get closer to Rek. He was buried up to his knees before he finally let his arms down and opened his eyes.

  Rek pushed his hands toward the castle, and his minions obeyed, flowing toward the door—a dark wave storming through the streets.

  “Is there a word for what I’m seeing?” The blonde mage was next to Cleve, her eyes wide.

  “Fearless determination,” Cleve answered with an eye on Rek. “It can lead to madness or madness can lead to it.”

  Cleve and the rest of the party followed Rek and his rodents, jogging to keep up. The ironbark door stood even taller than Cleve remembered. During Rek’s telling of his plan, he mentioned an arrow slit that was roughly twenty yards left of the door. The thin slit in the wall was designed for shooting intruders who couldn’t be reached from the balcony directly above it. The castle was symmetrical, so there was an identical arrow slit and balcony twenty yards to the right of the door, but Rek chose the left. They gathered there, rats jumping and swarming over their feet.

  “Get them inside!” Rek screamed. He had assumed correctly that the King would have no one stationed near the door into the castle, for it was too much of a risk that Rek would persuade them to open it.

  Cleve’s bow was slung around his shoulder as he scooped up armfuls of rats. There was only room for one person next to the arrow slit, and Rek chose him. “You look like you could pick up the most rats at once with those giant arms. You’re not scared of them, I assume?” Rek had said.

  Scared of rats, no, but he’d never touched one before. It was hard to tell how he would feel about scooping them five at a time. His worst fear was being bitten and catching something, but Rek had promised they wouldn’t bite. Their sole desire was to get inside, so Cleve just needed to provide the elevation.

  Sure enough, they seemed to run in on their own, down his arms, wrists, palms, then fingers, and through the arrow slit that was no wider than his hand.

  The worst part turned out to be bending down for more. Their jumping enthusiasm to get inside never stopped, so some would land on the back of his head or neck and scamper wildly for balance, only to slip and roll off him. It was truly disgusting. He found himself holding his breath each time his face was close to the ground.

  He quickly lost track of both time and rats. Rek was shouting the entire time. “Get those rats in there! Need more rats! Get them in there!”

  “I’m trying!” Cleve shouted back.

  Soon Cleve realized his strategy of cupping rats and neatly placing them near the arrow slit proved to be too slow. So his method changed to scooping and chucking them into the arrow slit, first by taking a step back from the wall, then by closing his arms around five or six of them and jerking them as accurately as he could at the gap in the wall.

  His new strategy was much faster at gathering rats, as he imagined, but half the rats wouldn’t make it in, bouncing off the wall with a high-pitched squeal.

  “Bastial hell, Cleve, you’re missing the hole!” Rek shouted. The Elf had his palm out, focusing to keep the rats under control.

  “I realize that, Rek!”

  So then he tried turning and squatting underneath the arrow slit, but this time so that his back was to the wall and his head underneath the opening. He used the same scoop and chuck method, but over his head into the slit directly above him.

  It was easier to be more accurate, but there were two problems: Some wouldn’t make it into the slit, even with him right below it. They would fall back down onto his shoulders or head, where they would scamper around until they tried to jump into the slit or until another rat fell onto them and pushed them off. The other issue was the rats he threw into his own face out of haste. That was, by far, the worst part of it all.

  He threw one against his mouth and had to stop to wipe his lips on his arm, spitting until the tickle of rat fur was gone.

  “Don’t stop. We need more rats!” Rek continued to shout.

  Meanwhile, the King’s warriors who Rek had persuaded to help created a protective circle around the party, each wielding a light-blue shield of Kyrro containing the image of a gold crown lined in silver. Not all of them could fit under the balcony above, so one mage shot fireballs at their assailants directly atop them while the other mage aimed at the balcony on the far side of the door.


  From what Cleve managed to witness as he hurled rats into the castle, it looked as if the incoming fireballs were of far more concern than the throwing daggers, which were easily defended by the warriors’ shields and armor.

  He knew fireballs could kill a man through a full plate of armor if they caught him in the head. They needed to be dodged, deflected with shields or intercepted with the “shell” spell. Cleve caught sight of a few instances of the spell when the Sartious mage snapped her wand at an incoming fireball, creating a long, rectangular shield of translucent, emerald green color. It was just as tall as the woman casting it and twice her width. Cleve saw how the spell got its name, for it curved slightly around wherever she aimed to give it the shape of a turtle shell.

  Cleve had never seen the spell in action before and was too busy with the rats to get a long look at it. But from what he could tell, it appeared to be falling and coming apart immediately after it was cast each time. Though, it was still strong enough to stop fireballs. When they slammed into the Sartious Energy field, the fireballs shattered and dispersed over the green shell, like a ray of sun exploding into an emerald so that the whole thing glistened.

  “That should be enough rats!” Rek shouted after what felt like a few hundred had made it inside. The sea of fur around them looked no thinner than when they’d started. Rek closed his eyes with his hands against the castle wall as Cleve wiped feces from his hair, face, and neck, spitting a few more times to make sure his mouth was clear.

  Rek had told them that once enough rats were inside, he could get them to remove the bolt that held the impenetrable door shut. “A solid steel bar slides up from the ground and into a hole on the underside of the door,” he’d told Cleve. “The bar is connected to a lever down the hall from the entrance, hidden inconspicuously on the floor in the corner of an uninhabited room.”

  Cleve stayed low, behind the wall of warriors with their shields still at the ready. He didn’t mind the rats crawling on him as much now, as long as they weren’t above his knees.