Bastial Frenzy (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 4)

by Narro, B. T.

  “I’m fine,” Rek said.

  “Take my blanket and lie down. I’m going to hunt while there’s still light.”

  “Do you even know how?”

  “My father taught me.”

  But night fell upon them too soon. Cleve found no animals save a few squirrels that ran before he could shoot. He was out of practice. It had been ten years, and he couldn’t remember the tricks his father taught him for finding game before it heard him coming.

  I wonder what else I’ll forget as time goes on. My father would still be here if it wasn’t for Welson.

  Disparaged, Cleve at least found a circle of apple trees on his way back. There weren’t more than three in their prime. But he brought back ten; some he would save as they ripened and others that were so soft he wouldn’t feel right feeding them to Nulya. He would eat those himself.

  He woke Rek and handed the three apples to him. “No feast tonight, but at least an alternative to bread and jerky.”

  Rek struggled to sit up, groaning as he did. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

  “Eat at least one of them. I’ll give the other two to Nulya, and you can have more tomorrow.”

  Cleve prepared a fire next. When it was lit, it was the only illumination Cleve could see no matter the direction he looked.

  The trees somewhat protected them from the rain, and their blankets caught the few drops getting through. Rek was still shivering. It was only after Cleve lay down beside him and put his arm around his stomach that his shaking stopped.

  By the time morning came and Cleve had awoken, Rek was shivering again. The rain had stopped, but everything was wet, the ground, their blankets, their clothes, even Nulya had to be miserable. Water drops clung to her mane.

  Cleve started a fire, then asked Rek if he could check the wound.

  “Is there even enough water to clean it?”

  “For one more day, yes,” Cleve said. “I think we should.”

  “And go without water until we reach Kyrro? No. Just leave the bandage.”

  “At least let me look at your skin around it.”

  Rek’s shaking became violent soon after Cleve helped him out of his coat. His skin was red and swollen around the blood-soaked bandage.

  “It doesn’t look good.” Cleve felt his forehead. “I think you’re getting a fever.”

  “Then let’s hurry.”

  “First we need to warm up and dry our clothes.”

  It looked like Rek was shaking his head, though it was difficult to tell with him shivering. “It’s going to start raining again,” Rek said. “We might as well ride.”

  Dammit, he’s right. Cleve didn’t know what to do to stop Rek from getting worse. It would still be two days before they arrived in Kyrro City.

  “Here.” Cleve took off his shirt. “It’s only damp on the outside. Put it on.”

  “I would laugh if I could. You’re going to ride like that into Kyrro?” He pointed at Cleve’s bare chest.

  It took all of Cleve’s strength not to wrap his arms around himself. “I’m not cold.”

  “And I’m not stupid, Cleve. I don’t need psyche to tell that’s a complete lie.”

  Anger started twisting in his chest. “Just take the damn shirt. I’m not going to wear it anymore.”

  Rek grumbled, taking it in silence.

  It wasn’t long after they started riding that Cleve wondered why they hadn’t brought Rek’s clothing scraps. He could’ve at least wrapped them around his torso and over his shoulders, and the sleeves were still intact. Even stained by Rek’s blood, Cleve would’ve traded the rest of his food for the ripped garment…at least in that moment, for he wasn’t hungry. But the hunger came later, almost the same moment rain began to fall, and he realized he would’ve regretted the trade.

  Soon, both of them were shivering.

  Every time Cleve saw shelter, like a tree or a ledge along a hillside, he’d find himself turning Nulya toward it. But then he remembered Evon telling him not to stop. He needed to get Rek to the chemists in Kyrro City, and waiting for the rain to end wasn’t an option.

  He began to think of nothing but the urge for warmth. He felt every cold drop of water hitting his neck and shoulders, running down his back. His hair fell in front of his face, dripping. But the wind that came later turned out to be his worst enemy. He cursed it under his breath every time it stormed through him and chilled his bones.

  It was a little more than a week ago that he’d awoken in Reela’s bed, touched by sunlight. So blissfully warm. The thought reignited his determination.

  There will be an end to this misery.

  Rek’s grip was loose around Cleve’s stomach. He mostly leaned forward, resting his chin on Cleve’s shoulder. It rattled with his shivering, and his arm shook as well. But it did well to protect Cleve’s back from the rain. The only wetness that reached him dripped down from Rek’s long hair.

  “Damn this rain.” It was the first Rek had spoken in a while.

  “Eat something.” Cleve handed him his bag. “Take an apple and some bread. Drink some water with it.”

  “The bread’s soaked through.”

  “Then you won’t need as much water” was all Cleve could say.

  When the rain finally stopped, it was too dark to tell where they were. Cleve would’ve risked riding farther, but there was no moonlight to guide them.

  “We’ll rest here.”

  “Where is here?” Rek asked, still shivering.

  “All I know is we’ve been riding southwest toward Kyrro. Hopefully we can reach it by tomorrow.”

  “How I wish you were a mage right now.”

  Cleve knew what Rek was referring to. They needed a fire. With it, they could dry their clothes and warm their bodies. But without a mage, Cleve didn’t have enough light to gather what was needed to make one. He couldn’t see farther than his outstretched arm.

  Cleve lifted Rek off the saddle. “Can you put weight on your ankle now?”

  “Somewhat.” Cleve let him down. “But I feel weak.” Rek clasped Cleve’s shoulder for balance.

  Even through his shoes, Cleve could feel the grass was saturated with water. They couldn’t rest here.

  “We need to find somewhere dry. Let me carry you.”

  Rek didn’t object, so Cleve scooped him up. “Hold Nulya’s reins as I look around.”

  Rek used his one good hand to drag Nulya after them as Cleve trudged forward. Fearful of bumping into a tree or tripping over a rock, Cleve’s pace was about the speed of a crawl. There seemed to be grass everywhere. For all Cleve knew, it could be wet grass for miles in every direction.

  Rek was tall and certainly not light. Cleve couldn’t carry him more than twenty steps without setting him down on his feet for a break. His shoulders ached. His arms burned. He could feel hope being sucked out of his body.

  Depression hit hard. All seemed lost.

  “Cleve, I can feel what you’re feeling.” Rek’s voice was faint. “But we’ll get through this. Don’t give up. Just put both blankets on the grass and we’ll sleep on top.”

  His words helped until Cleve realized something he needed to check. Panic took over.

  “Wait,” he said, setting Rek down and reaching into their other bag to check on their folded blankets.

  The bag itself was just as wet as their food bag, but the inside of it was dry…and so were their blankets.

  Cleve felt relief flow through his chest as he let out his breath. Then he had an idea. “I think we should risk folding one blanket to lie on and use the other to cover ourselves. We can fit if we press together. Then if the bottom blanket gets too wet, we can put the top one underneath us.”

  “That’s a fine idea, but just be careful of my shoulder.”

  “It hurts?”

  “Yes, like a dog’s teeth is ripping apart my flesh. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to sleep. But I must lie down. My legs feel weak.”

  Cleve knelt down to sweep away as much water as he coul
d before placing a folded blanket on the ground. He eased Rek onto it, the poor Elf groaning in pain.

  Cleve had nowhere to tie his horse.

  “Rek, can you use psyche to tell Nulya to stay here and rest?”

  “I’ll try. Bring her here, so I can touch her leg as I do it. It’ll make it easier.”

  Cleve followed Rek’s voice, easing Nulya closer until Rek said he had her.

  “There,” Rek muttered, his voice becoming a whisper. “I can’t even keep my eyes open. If it rains tomorrow…” But he didn’t finish his sentence.

  Cleve maneuvered to lie beside Rek. There was hardly any warmth coming from the Elf’s body.

  Cleve wasn’t completely on the blanket, the wet grass prodding his back. He reached his hand over Rek to see how much extra blanket he had, but Rek was already on its edge.

  Shivering, Cleve closed his eyes and took several slow breaths.

  The slumber that came was fitful. He awoke too many times to count. So many that—when morning came—he wondered if he’d been awake more than asleep. His body ached from cold. It felt as if his bones were made of ice and they were quickly freezing the rest of his muscles.

  As he sat up, Cleve realized it wasn’t so much morning as it was twilight. The clouds had parted, and he could see the moon. It shined, giving the beads of water on the damp blanket over him and Rek a hue of silver. He could see Nulya had folded her legs and was asleep on the grass. He hoped she wasn’t too cold.

  Rek was breathing heavily. He murmured something unintelligible. The sound of it frightened Cleve, for it was nothing close to any word he could recognize. He touched Rek’s forehead. It was hotter than before. His fever was worsening.

  Cleve stood, dizzy and weary. He’d turned too many times when it was dark to know which direction was west. Panic came next. But then he saw something that almost made him cry with joy.

  Around a knoll was Lake Kayvol, sparkling with serene beauty. They were in Kyrro. Fifteen, maybe twenty more miles and they would be in Kyrro City. The wind was dreadfully cold, but they were so close, and there was no rain.

  “Rek.” Cleve knelt to touch his arm. “We’re going to ride again.”

  Rek grumbled, then whispered, “Don’t think I can stand.”

  As Cleve retrieved the last of their water from his bag, his cracked lips and dry mouth begged him to drink before giving it to Rek. But he ignored the urge.

  “Drink this,” Cleve said. “There’s only about a gulp left, but we’ll be in Kyrro City before the end of the day.”

  He held the water pouch to Rek’s mouth before he could object.

  “Can you eat?” Cleve asked next.

  “Don’t know. Feel sick.”

  Their bread was stale and wet, but Cleve forced Rek to eat some nonetheless. He woke Nulya next and offered her the rest of their apples. She ignored his meager offering and nibbled on the grass instead.

  Cleve ate the apples himself. He knew he must’ve been famished, but he was too exhausted to tell. Just the little energy he’d expended since finding Lake Kayvol had made spots appear wherever he looked.

  After he got Rek onto the saddle, Cleve nearly was overcome by dizziness. He needed a moment to steady himself before climbing on the saddle next.

  Rek was slumped forward, barely able to keep himself upright. Cleve gently pulled Rek back to lean against him.

  “Sleep if you can,” Cleve suggested.

  But Rek was already out.

  Nulya puttered forward, and then Rek let out a scream. “My shoulder,” he cried.

  It had been pressed against Cleve’s chest. Somehow he’d forgotten. He couldn’t even recall how he got Rek on the saddle. He turned Rek slightly to relieve the pressure. Nulya balked when Cleve urged her to go faster. She clearly was exhausted, and he decided not to push her.

  They rode in silence. When Cleve nearly tumbled off the saddle, he realized he’d fallen asleep. They were coming up to the lake. He steered Nulya toward it so she could drink.

  Cleve knew he wouldn’t boil the water. He didn’t have it in him to make fire.

  “Rek, don’t fall off.”

  Rek mumbled something and then stiffened his upper body.

  Cleve dismounted and filled his water pouch. He drank the whole thing, then refilled it and offered it to Rek.

  The Elf was swaying back and forth in the saddle, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. Sweat lined his forehead. He didn’t even know Cleve was there.

  “Rek, can you hear me?”

  He didn’t respond. Cleve led Nulya away from the water and climbed on her back. He held the pouch to Rek’s lips. But he wouldn’t drink. When Cleve forced his mouth open, Rek finally swallowed some before he began coughing fitfully.

  They continued west, the sun brightening the horizon with a yellow crown.

  “It looks like there won’t be any rain today, Rek. The clouds are thin, and the sky is blue. Can you see?”

  Rek said nothing.

  Cleve once more urged Nulya to go faster, and this time she listened. Her pace quickened to a trot.

  Again, Cleve nearly slipped off the saddle as he struggled to stay awake. Something was different about this weariness, though. It seemed to strike him suddenly, like the need to sneeze or cough. His heart jumped with his next thought.

  Am I losing consciousness?

  He tried to remember how long they’d been riding. He could recall being at the lake, but not much else. He wondered if it was possible that he hadn’t slept at all the night before. He couldn’t remember eating anything either.

  The sun was over his head. Wasn’t it just in front of him moments ago?

  Rek’s neck was sweaty. Cleve asked, “Are you hot?” He was surprised by the sound of his own voice. It was weak and strained.

  Rek didn’t reply.

  Cleve removed Rek’s coat, putting it around his own shoulders instead. Sweat stained Rek’s lower back and armpits. Cleve considered removing Rek’s shirt too, but it wasn’t warm out.

  Nulya was at a slow trot, grunting. She was sweating worse than Rek.

  The only thing keeping Cleve conscious was his constant worry that they weren’t going to make it. He could see the city before him now. Oakshen was just behind them, to the south. If he’d known any chemists who could help Rek, he would’ve aimed the horse there instead. The thought of food and water almost made him do it. But Rek needed potions to save his life.

  Still, Cleve was struggling to keep not only Rek on the saddle but himself as well. He couldn’t lift his head without feeling dizzy. Bubbles of light were popping around the top of his vision. Every so often, they slowly sank to block his view entirely. He felt nauseous when that happened, and time would slip away.

  Nulya pushed forward. They were in Raywhite Forest now. It had become dark.

  Cleve leaned to the side, preparing to retch. His stomach heaved, but nothing happened. How did night come so quickly? He barely could see where he was.

  They should be close to Kyrro City. He couldn’t lift his head to check without dizziness taking him off the saddle. But he had to see where they were going.

  Then he realized they were barely moving. Nulya was huffing loudly, and her legs were shaking. She seemed to trip on something and started to fall forward. Cleve grabbed Rek, but he couldn’t do much more than that.

  Nulya collapsed. Cleve hit the ground. He had his arms around Rek’s stomach, but the Elf still didn’t say anything. Nulya was whimpering, her chest heaving with each breath.

  Cleve tried to stand but didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t even lift his head.

  He grunted as he tried once more, using his hands and knees to push off the ground. Then he was up. He bent down and lifted Rek, letting out a scream from the strain of it.

  One step was all he took. Then his muscles gave out and Rek slipped from his grasp. Cleve tripped over him and fell flat on his chest.

  He felt pain and nausea as darkness closed in again.

  Chapter 14:<
br />
  CLEVE

  He heard voices and felt hands on him. Was it Rek trying to wake him up? He couldn’t tell. He struggled to open his eyes.

  He was somewhere else now, lying on his back with someone trying to open his mouth.

  “I think he’s awake,” a woman said. “Cleve? His name is Cleve, right? Cleve, can you hear me? I need you to drink this.”

  He barely could open his mouth. Something tangy and salty touched his lips. He swallowed.

  “You’re sick with a fever. It could be from exhaustion, malnourishment, or some illness, but whatever it is, this will help.”

  Rek, Nulya, he wanted to ask about them but couldn’t.

  “Drink some more. I’ll be back later.”

  “Does he know what he’s drinking?” a man asked.

  “I don’t think he even knows where he is,” the woman replied.

  Cleve couldn’t hear the rest, for he already was falling out of consciousness again.

  Dreams took over. He was running, trying to reach Kyrro City. But walls had been built while he was gone. There was no entrance.

  “Cleve.” It was Reela’s voice. She was on Nulya, pointing to the Academy. “This way.”

  He wanted to follow her, but he knew she was wrong. “I have to get inside Kyrro City.”

  “The King will punish you if you try. Come with me instead. I’ll take you home.” She reached out her hand.

  Nothing did he long for more than to feel Reela’s touch. He couldn’t resist. As soon as he took her hand, he floated onto the saddle. Reela pressed her palm against Nulya’s side, and the horse galloped toward the Academy.

  The smell of Reela’s hair enveloped him, like tea with honey. He began to kiss her cheek. She giggled and ran her hand through his hair.

  “There will be plenty of time for that later,” she said. “I’m trying to steer the horse.”

  “Rek!” Cleve just then remembered the Elf. “I need to—”

  “He’s right behind you.”

  Cleve felt Rek’s hand on his stomach.

  “You didn’t notice me here?” Rek seemed insulted, but at least he looked healthy again.

  “Where are we going?” Cleve asked.

  “Home,” Reela said.