by Narro, B. T.
He wanted to break down the bars, throw her onto his small prison bed, and rip off her dress. She bit down on his lip for a quick nibble, then put her tongue in his mouth. He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth, forcing her tongue back playfully. Reela moaned softly and opened her mouth wide to accept him. Soon she pushed back, and their tongues danced together for a few wild breaths before he and Reela returned to locking lips.
They were pushing so hard against each other that it hurt. Or maybe that was just him knowing this was likely to be the last time he’d ever be with her.
Someone was tapping on his shoulder with a stick of some sort. He realized it had been tapping at him for a while now. Then he heard the jailer’s voice, again suddenly realizing it had been speaking for some time. “I must take the lady away. We have to escort Rek, and her visiting time is up. Procedures need to be followed.”
Reela pulled away, only for a blink, returning immediately for more. He grabbed her face and kissed her hard.
The jailor shook his shoulder. “She needs to go.”
Again she leaned away. Her eyes were longing, and Cleve was certain he had the same look for her.
Cleve peeled his body from the metal bars. His heart ached. It could have been from the force he’d used to push himself into the bars, but it didn’t seem to fade like the pain in his collar did. It was a deeper ache, a pinch in the back of his heart. It grew worse when he took his eyes off Reela for a moment, so he stared back at her.
Then he noticed muffled hollers from Rek’s cell. It sounded like Rek might have been trying to shout at Cleve through the gag. However, later when he was escorted past Cleve’s cell and gave a wink, Cleve realized it must’ve been cheering.
Before Reela left, she grabbed his hands tightly with both of hers and pressed them together so that his palms were flat against each other. He felt weak in her grasp, but he didn’t mind it.
“Reela, I—” he started.
“Me, too,” she ended. “Whatever it is, me, too.”
The last he saw of her was a sad smile.
A few minutes after they were both gone, Cleve heard Captain Mmzaza wake with a snort and walk to the bars. “Ah, the pretty is gone. Did I miss anything?”
A smile came to Cleve that was so wide, he wondered if his cheeks had ever been pushed so far out before. It felt like stretching a muscle that had never been used. He crashed onto the bed. His chest was still heaving in and out.
Perhaps he didn’t want to give his mind a chance to take over again, or maybe he just wanted to break the silence. For whatever reason, he asked a strange question to a strange man. It was a question he never would have asked to a person whose answer he never would have cared to hear, but so many never would haves had just been broken, so he found no reason to hold on to those that remained.
“What do you think love is, CM?”
“Love, ah, Captain Mmzaza knows about that. Love makes a frail man tough, and a tough man frail. I’ve known boys who would sail with me into the heaviest storm. They were never scared until they met a woman, had themselves a family. Then what they thought was bravery before, they suddenly thought to be stupidity. The thought of being away from their woman was worse than any storm. So they took different work, safe work.”
Captain Mmzaza sat back down on his bed, letting out a long groan. “I’ve also known the other side of it, boys who were cowards until they had love. One of them was my brother. He hated the water, nothing scared him more. But then his wife became sick with the wet cough, and he didn’t have the money they needed for the doctor and his potions. My brother took a crabbing sail, good money in that. They were to fish for crabs around the Ice Isle. And even though the weather was bad, they went.”
Captain Mmzaza stopped to let out a soft burp, then chose to grumble something instead of continuing the story.
“Did something happen to him?” Cleve asked.
“Sure did, he died, but not from that trip. They caught many crabs, made lots of money. He paid for the doctor, wife got better. He was killed in a bar fight, one he started. Love doesn’t make ya immune to your own foolishness.” He had a bitter grunt of a laugh. “Are ya in love, boy?”
Cleve could feel his mind taking control again. It was feeding him regrets, burying his feelings for Reela. “I hope not,” he muttered.
She makes you weak. Don’t long for something you can’t have. You’ll probably never see her again. You shouldn’t lose control like that. Imagine if that happened during thoughts of your parents?
He felt a sudden rage storm into him. He balled his fist and sat up. He was ready to fight, but what was his enemy? Then he realized it was these thoughts. “What are you scared of? Don’t be such a coward!” He wanted to shout it.
It felt like a war was going on within him, his heart against his mind, and if he didn’t pick a side it would tear him in half.
So without another thought, he did. I don’t care about logic. I want her.
A sweet satisfaction started down his neck, moving toward his heart. But before he could truly enjoy his victory, more voices came down the stone hallway. It was two men this time—the jailer and someone else.
When he saw the silhouette of the man, he knew it had to be his uncle. Terren’s hair was blonde, although it had begun to turn brown in some spots. Terren combed it to the side, leaving it to hang loosely as long as it was out of his face. After a good bout, it would be spread across his forehead before he pushed it back to the side. His chin was round and small, his nose nothing threatening, but toughness could always be found in his eyes. They were deep into his skull, dark, long, and thin. The jailer walked in front of him, but Cleve still could see most of Terren’s face behind the jailer because of his height, which almost matched his own.
“Another visitor for you, Cleve. I’ve never seen such a popular prisoner.”
Captain Mmzaza’s face came out for a glance. “Ah, just a man. I was hoping the pretty had returned.”
Cleve had hoped for the same. He was unsure how his uncle would react to his reason for being imprisoned. When he’d imagined this moment, he was there because the bow was discovered, not because he’d tried—and failed—to kill Terren’s only friend.
“I’ll leave you to it.” The jailer left.
“What have you heard?” Cleve reluctantly asked his uncle.
“The King told me all of it. I have to say, the rats were the best part.” Terren forced a smile. “Rek really is something special, isn’t he?”
“Why don’t you sound upset?” Cleve asked, beginning to feel confused frustration.
Terren sighed loudly. “I was trying to lighten the mood. You never let yourself feel better when something bad happens, even when others try to cheer you up. Of course I’m upset. But I’m still proud of you.”
Cleve figured Terren was talking about not shooting Rek. There was nothing else to be proud about. “Don’t be. I would’ve taken the shot if I’d had one to take. I fell asleep, and Rek found me before I woke. I would’ve done it. Not that I wanted to.”
“You can’t be sure of that. It’s not like shooting a tree, Cleve. Once you’re aiming at a man, it’s likely to trigger something deep. Do you remember how many deer you missed before finally hitting one? We both knew you were capable of making the shot, but it took weeks before you finally did. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t take the animal’s life, so you missed. It wasn’t even a conscious decision. Now you think you could shoot a man who you’ve never met? Do you really think that?”
“If I knew for certain that he was an enemy.”
“But you didn’t know that about Rek. You couldn’t have.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And I’m proud of you for that, even if the King isn’t.”
The old seaman poked his head out. “Want to know what Captain Mmzaza thinks?”
“No, we don’t care,” Cleve answered quickly.
Terren peered around curiously at the other cells. There were four in thei
r hall, two of which were empty now with Rek gone.
The captain continued anyway. “Captain Mmzaza has taken the lives of thousands of fish, but never a man. But if the King said to shoot a man, then Captain Mmzaza would do it.”
Again Terren checked the other cells for someone else. “Who is Captain Mmzaza?” Terren finally asked. “And why do we care?”
“Captain Mmzaza is I, the greatest captain of our day. I can guide a ship through any water, any storm.”
“Ignore him,” Cleve said.
“Right, already decided that as soon as I found out he was talking in third person,” Terren replied.
Captain Mmzaza continued, “If the King wants me to drive a ship, I would do it. I would expect some payment, though…”
Terren was now pushing his head through the bars of Cleve’s cell. He spoke softly as Captain Mmzaza rambled in the background about something. “Cleve, I wish there was more I could do, but I can’t. I never should have let you take that bow.”
“They knew I had it even before I moved from your house. They would’ve found it anyway. Don’t blame yourself. It was my choice to keep it all these years, and I don’t regret it.”
Terren’s mouth twisted, and for a breath Cleve couldn’t tell if he would yell or whisper. Then Terren gave one quick nod and let out a sad smile. “I’m going to get you back here as soon as possible. It’s going to be difficult with the war going on, but I’ll find a way to convince the King to bring you back.”
He doesn’t know King Welson as well as he thinks he does, Cleve realized. “I know.” He felt too bad for his uncle to tell him how impossible that would be. “I know you will.”
“There’s something else I need to speak to you about. King Welson has a mission for first-year students. He just told me about it right before I saw you.”
“You were just with him now? Who else was up there?” Cleve wondered if the King would be stupid enough to put Rek in the same room as his Elven brother.
“An Elf and a Krepp. They’re coming along on the mission with the first-years and me. The King was too busy to spend any time discussing the Elf and the Krepp with me, though. Says we’ll get to know each other soon enough.”
Yes, he’s going to be too busy for you from now on, especially when you start asking about bringing me back to Kyrro. “You didn’t see Rek?”
“I saw him after I spoke to the King. He was gagged, waiting to be brought in. We didn’t get to speak. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time, so I must get to business. We’re supposed to be leaving now. The King wants me to select first-year students for the mission, and I can use your opinion about some of them.”
“Why first-years and not more experienced students?”
“Because we need as many for battle as we can, and the first-years aren’t ready yet, but some still possess the skill this mission requires. You know the people I’m thinking about bringing because two of them are your roommates. What do you know of Effie Elegin? Her ranks are very good, and we need a mage. Marie Fyremore spoke highly of her.”
That’s an easy answer. “She’s strong and confident, a good mage for any task.”
“Good. We also need a chemist who may be familiar with rare plants and Slugari. Jack Rose told me about Steffen Duroby, said he’s exceptionally knowledgeable. I met him briefly as you already know, but I didn’t learn much about him. What can you tell me now that you know him?”
Cleve gave a sigh as he thought about how he should answer this one. “I don’t know about Slugari, but if you’re looking for someone knowledgeable, then I doubt you’ll find any other first-year who knows as much as he does. Whatever rare plant it is, he’ll probably know. I’m not sure how well his decisions are under pressure, however.” Cleve thought about the first time they’d met and the rocks Steffen stupidly had thrown at the bear. Cleve was furious at the time, but now he found himself smiling at the absurdity of it. “He might be a bit unorthodox.”
“I see,” Terren replied. “You probably don’t know the first-year warrior I want to take. I don’t know anything about him, just that—except for you—he had the highest ranks after evaluation week, and he’s brothers with the commander of the King’s Guard.”
“Alarex,” Cleve said when he realized who it was. “I would like to think I know him. You can trust him with any mission. He goes by Alex.”
“Great.” Terren had one of those rare smiles he would get sometimes when Cleve surprised him during a bout. “I’m happy you’ve finally made some friends.”
Captain Mmzaza whistled. “The boy has trouble with the social life? Don’t worry, I’ll teach ya some songs and riddles. Captain Mmzaza will show ya how to make friends.”
“I can’t wait for that,” Cleve replied sarcastically. “What is this mission for anyway?”
“We may have an unexpected ally in this war,” Terren said. He began explaining the mission to Cleve, ignoring Captain Mmzaza’s panicked questions about Kyrro being at war. However, before Terren could finish, the jailer had returned.
When Cleve saw the woman behind the jailer, his heart started beating wildly. It was in that moment he saw Reela’s face under the thick, long hair. But as she came closer, he noticed the hair he stared at was dark, not light, and she was nearly a whole head shorter than Reela. It couldn’t be her.
“Sorry this has taken so long,” Jessend Takary said. She wore an enthralling smile.
Captain Mmzaza whistled. “Another pretty! What a day it’s been.”
Jessend took a quick, indifferent glance at him before turning back to Cleve and continuing. “My captain has been ill and doesn’t look to be recovering for a few days more. But I must be going back to Goldram now so my father doesn’t worry. Welson Kimard has offered a captain for me to use so mine can rest during the voyage. They say he’s a prisoner but not dangerous and a very good captain.”
“This is him right here.” The jailer pointed at Captain Mmzaza.
No, this can’t be happening, Cleve thought. Anyone else. But before he could say anything, Captain Mmzaza gave a laugh and a stinging whistle. “No, not dangerous, and very happy to get out early, especially with you, lovely.”
“Oh.” Jessend Takary was startled but then forced a friendly grin. “How fortunate, two out of three right here. And where is Rek?”
“He’s waiting outside the castle, gagged and restrained,” the jailer said.
“Wonderful,” Jessend said. “If you would please restrain these men and escort them out, we can leave. I’ll be outside.”
“Certainly,” the jailer replied with his eyes falling on Terren. “As soon as I escort this visitor out, the rest will be brought to you. Procedures must be followed.”
“Thank you,” Jessend said. She made a point to show Cleve a comforting smile before leaving.
Terren’s usually hard eyes were now soft with sadness. “This is it, then. I will see you again.”
They hugged as tightly as the bars allowed. “Yes you will,” Cleve promised.
Terren whispered as they still embraced each other, “Behave yourself. The Takary family is a very proud one. Whatever they want you to do, do it. I’ll come for you as soon as I can convince the King to let me.”
“Just focus on the war. I can handle whatever it is they want me to do in Goldram,” Cleve whispered back, knowing any conversation about him with King Welson would be a waste of time. He would find a way back himself and didn’t want to worry his uncle with it.
Cleve poked his head out to watch the jailer and Terren walk down the hall.
Then Captain Mmzaza’s head snuck out from his cell to block the view. He had a showy grin. “Looks like you’re going to be calling me captain after all.”
Chapter 51: Confidence
EFFIE
Effie wearily pushed through the door to her campus house. I don’t see how sleep can elude me tonight.
Marie Fyremore had been working the Group One mages until exhaustion overcame them each day. Effie had never
seen so much life out of someone so old. Her grandmother was a mage, but Effie never saw a spell from her. She liked to knit instead and talk about how she used to impress boys with magic. Marie Fyremore was definitely not like her grandmother.
Marie had a tough voice, and it rang through Effie’s mind all the way back from the classroom. “You can’t let an old woman outcast you!” That was her favorite saying, and she did outcast them, even made it look easy. Her fireballs were impressive, nearly as large as the five-foot-tall metal training dummy. When students were keeled over and searching for breath, she would shoot a gust of hot Bastial wind at them, yelling, “Don’t breathe, meditate. Your breath will come back while you regain energy. Do it standing tall. You’re an easy target staring at the ground.”
Sometimes, Marie would cast “shell” in front of students who were just about to shoot a fireball at their dummies. “If you can’t get through this shell, your fire will have no effect on the tough skin of a Krepp!” Then she’d snap her wand and hold the shell there as easily as if it were a simple spell of light.
“Shell” was an emerald green rectangle, always slightly curved toward the student caster Marie chose to block. Its Sartious Energy was translucent and held steady until Marie let her wand rest. Then it would shatter apart like glass, dissolving into the air. Effie hoped her master mage instructor was exaggerating about Krepp skin being tougher than her spell of “shell,” because no one could shoot through it, not even Effie. She nearly passed out trying.
Marie Fyremore seemed to push Effie harder than anyone else, perhaps because she’d said she wished to specialize in Sartious Energy, and no other student had said the same.
“Green mages are extremely useful, especially in a time of war,” Marie told Effie after their first class. “But to get anywhere with the heavy energy, you have to be completely dedicated. Manipulating the stuff is dangerous. Too much SE flowing through you can stop your heart. I never advise students to take on its study unless they have expert self-control. So I always recommend men stay with Bastial.” She laughed and leaned in close. “SE brings its caster an orgasmic feeling when it runs through the body. Have you felt it, dear?”
