Bastial Frenzy (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 4)

by Narro, B. T.

  “I’m sure there are many who think that, though.”

  Cleve noticed them and started over before joining the queue for his food.

  Alex stood and cursed again. “Reela, Cleve’s coming.”

  She took a deep breath. Cleve came to her side and put his hand on her back.

  Alex quickly sat and focused on his food.

  “Hi, Cleve,” Reela said, her tone still sad.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Cleve looked straight at Effie, holding her eyes in his harsh gaze for a breath. Then they shifted to Alex. The silence was dense as Cleve studied his face.

  Cleve must’ve seen guilt in Alex’s expression. He balled his fist and shouted, “I told you not to tell her!”

  Alex jumped up from the bench. “I didn’t want to, but she made me.”

  Cleve started toward him, but Reela grabbed his shirt. “I would’ve made you tell me if he hadn’t, Cleve. Don’t be upset.”

  “You were better off not hearing it,” Cleve said. “I wouldn’t have told you.”

  Reela rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Please, like you could’ve kept it from me. Go get your food. I’m not hurt.” Surprisingly, her tone had its usual strength back.

  Cleve didn’t move, staring at Reela in disbelief.

  “Go on,” she said, giving his rear a slap. His back stiffened. “I’m fine. Just try not to kill anyone on the way back.”

  Cleve hurried off to join Zoke in line. Reela had a long breath, then started eating once again.

  “I’m sorry, Reela,” Alex said.

  She waved her hand to stop him from saying more. “Don’t be.” Then Effie could hear it in her tone once again. She was still hurting.

  “This damn scar,” Reela muttered. “I’ve never hated anything about myself so much.”

  Effie joined Reela on her side of the table. She hugged her, then kissed her good cheek. She wanted to tell Reela that she was just as pretty as before, that no amount of melted green flesh could ever make her look any different. But unfortunately, Reela would know better. Effie thought of what else she could say, something completely genuine. That’s what Reela needed to hear.

  “You’re still pretty,” Effie said. “Don’t let one man’s idiocy change how you feel about yourself.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Reela said. “The problem is I already think differently about myself even if nobody else says anything. My own sense of my beauty is practically gone. So when someone compliments me, it just reminds me of what I’m constantly trying to ignore.”

  It was utterly depressing to hear Reela speak that way about herself. She’d always been proud of her appearance, especially after she let her ears show.

  “Reela, yes there’s a scar on your face,” Effie said. “But that doesn’t mean the rest of what makes you beautiful is gone. Your hair practically glows. Your eyes are greener than any I’ve ever seen. Even with the scar, there’s beauty everywhere I look along your face.” Effie folded her arms. “And let’s not ignore your breasts.” She unfolded an arm to point at them with her thumb. “I could only imagine if I had those things. I’d probably rule Kyrro.” She snapped her finger at Alex. “Don’t you dare say anything.”

  He had his mouth open but closed it the moment she was done talking. His shoulders and neck slumped as he went back to eating.

  Reela laughed halfheartedly. “I know you’re right. It’s just difficult to think that way.” She carefully brushed her hand against her scar. “I’ll never stop hating it, though. It still hurts whenever it’s touched.”

  With a full mouth, Alex managed to get out, “Those bastards in Tenred will pay.”

  Chapter 28:

  STEFFEN

  Steffen finally was beginning to feel that everything was as it should be. He figured it had to do with Cleve and Rek returning to Kyrro. It had been like completing a puzzle, only to find out days later that two pieces had been put in the wrong place. Now it was finally done, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing had to be taken apart.

  He still missed Marratrice, and he figured the pain would be there for the rest of his life. Though, from what he’d read about grief, it was his understanding it should get easier—and it had.

  He’d spent yesterday in Effie’s group helping translate between the Slugari and the mages. But today he was back with the other chemists, fighting on Warrior’s Field. Ironically, with a sword in his hand again, it was easy to forget how it was just a matter of time before he would have to use it for real, and that his life would depend on his skill with it.

  Steffen yearned to hear that Tenred had agreed to peace. It needed to happen before the Krepps attacked, otherwise Tegry could have his army join them. Everyone knew how small their chances would be in that circumstance. During his visit to Oakshen, he’d spoken with Gabby about the Krepps. People were trying to determine when they would attack, but there was just too little information to go on.

  Not an hour into battle training, the Redfield bell beckoned. Everyone froze after its first chime, waiting for the next.

  When it rang again, Steffen’s lack of nervousness about a third chime was surprising. He was ready. If they had to fight, so be it.

  But it didn’t ring again. Many chemists around him let out a loud breath as they started toward the stadium.

  He found Effie and sat beside her. The stadium seemed to fill quicker than usual. Everyone’s eager to hear good news, Steffen thought. Terren took his spot in the middle. He didn’t need to raise his arms to quiet everyone. They were nearly silent already.

  “I have important information to share, some good and some bad,” Terren said. “I’ll start with the good.”

  Effie grumbled. “They should always start with the bad,” she whispered.

  “Haemon, one of the Slugari who led the Krepps, has been killed.”

  Steffen already knew that, but he enjoyed hearing the gasps and seeing the smiles of those around him.

  “He was killed before he made it back to the Krepp camp, shot with a poisoned arrow by our own Cleve Polken, who was accompanied by the powerful psychic some of you may have heard of, Rek Worender.”

  Everyone applauded. Steffen could hear people shouting to each other.

  “How did they do that with all the Krepps around?”

  “Cleve’s Terren’s nephew, right?”

  “Rek is the other Elf.”

  “And the other good news!” Terren shouted, then waited for everyone to quiet. “Tegry Hiller has agreed to meet with our king to discuss terms of peace!”

  This sent Steffen jumping from his bench and clapping from the enthusiasm pumping through him. He wanted to shout just for the sake of it. So he did, as did those around him.

  The cheering and applause lasted for some time. When he was seated once again, Effie admitted, “Alright, maybe it was best to give the good news first. I’m ready to hear anything now.”

  Terren was peering into the audience with a hand cupped over his eyes, looking for someone. Soon he shouted, “Steffen Duroby, stand and raise your hand.”

  Steffen was struck with such fear, every joint and muscle stiffened. He couldn’t move. Everyone was looking around.

  “Did he say your name?” Effie asked.

  “Steffen Duroby?” Terren yelled again. “Will you stand and raise your hand so I know you’re here and you’ve heard me?”

  Effie grabbed Steffen by the shoulders and urged him to his feet. “Raise your arm,” she commanded.

  He did. Everyone turned to stare. He felt his heart stop.

  “Thank you, Steffen,” Terren said. “Come meet with me after this announcement is over.”

  Steffen crashed back into his seat as quickly as he could.

  “What does he want?” Effie asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  Terren continued before Steffen could ponder it. “Now for the bad news. It has been confirmed that two Dajriks have joined the Kreppen Army
.”

  Steffen felt a whisper come out on its own. “What?” He was in disbelief.

  “Why do I know that word?” Effie asked him. Then she gasped and covered her mouth. “The giant with the Slugari—he’s a Dajrik.”

  There were murmurs and looks of confusion among most others.

  “For those who don’t know what a Dajrik is,” Terren continued, “they are creatures that are twenty feet tall with tougher skin than Krepps.”

  There was a palpable change in the air, pure fear emanating from everyone.

  The silence in the stadium was unnerving. Steffen kept waiting to hear someone say something, but no one spoke.

  “I’m not going to tell you not to worry about a couple of twenty-foot creatures,” Terren said. “But you should trust by now that the King and your instructors have already begun planning how we’ll defend ourselves against them. We still have the advantage.” He thumped his chest, his voice proud. “We have the training and teamwork to win this fight.”

  Terren’s confidence was infectious. Steffen could feel himself and others starting to let go of their worries.

  “We even have mages—with the Slugari’s assistance—who can cast fireballs big enough to take out five Krepps at once. These Dajriks are just bigger targets, easier to hit. They’ll be the first to die of those that dare attack Kyrro!”

  Redfield roared with applause.

  “Now get back to battle training and work hard. Don’t ever forget that you’re part of the Kyrro Army and that it’s up to you to protect our cities.”

  Good advice, Steffen thought. It was too easy to forget the point of his training. He might not specialize in killing, but he was just as much of a soldier as any warrior. But what could Terren need from him now? Not a single idea came.

  “Tell me later what he says.” Effie followed the others toward the nearest exit while Steffen descended to the center of the stadium.

  Terren was speaking with Wilfre and Jack when Steffen got there. They stopped, each greeting Steffen with a handshake.

  “Congratulations,” Wilfre said. But Steffen couldn’t feel anything but nervous curiosity until he found out more.

  Terren put his hand on Steffen’s shoulder and showed him a serious look. “The meeting between Welson Kimard and Tegry Hiller will be without psychics. That means two others beside Welson and Tegry’s usual scribes will need to record the meeting.” He pointed with a grin. “You’re going to be Welson’s scribe.”

  “But I’ve never scribed before,” Steffen argued.

  “You do it all the time,” Jack said, starting a list with his fingers. “I’ve seen you write down notes during our discussions. Chemist Leandra has seen your ability to record what’s discussed in class. You had nearly all the Slugari’s plants categorized before a Slugari destroyed your list, right?”

  “I suppose.” Steffen didn’t know what else to say.

  “This is an honor,” Wilfre reminded him.

  “We’re confident you’ll do well.” Terren squeezed his shoulder. “Follow Wilfre to his office. He’ll give you the supplies you’ll need and any further instruction you require. The King will be here shortly.”

  “I still don’t know exactly what I’m doing,” Steffen complained.

  “You’re just recording what happens,” Jack said. “With as much detail as you can manage without falling behind. Wilfre will tell you what tone and tense to use.”

  Wilfre put his hand on Steffen’s back, and they walked out of the stadium.

  “Third person, past tense,” Wilfre said. “Stick to formal words and sentence structure. Don’t speak on the way there or in the meeting unless you’re asked a question. Repeat what I just told you.”

  “Don’t speak unless I’m asked a question.”

  “All of it,” Wilfre said.

  Steffen couldn’t help but show his frustration with a scoff.

  “Stop.” Wilfre extended his arm in front of Steffen. “Listen to me carefully. How you perform reflects on me. I need to make sure nothing goes wrong, and I won’t have you giving me an attitude about it.”

  Steffen held back a grumble. “Yes, sir.”

  Wilfre had finished giving Steffen instructions by the time they got to his office. He gave Steffen a bag with blank scrolls, two quills, and two jars of ink. Then he fastened a light blue ribbon to Steffen’s collar with a pin. It hung down across the right side of his chest. At its bottom was a gold crown outlined in silver for Kyrro.

  “There,” Wilfre said with some satisfaction. “Now you’re a true scribe…at least for the day.”

  Wilfre tested him with questions until they heard horns blowing. The King had arrived.

  “He knows to meet you at the north gate,” Wilfre said. “I’ll take you there. As we walk, tell me if you quote someone speaking or you generalize what was said?”

  “I already answered that.”

  “And now you’re going to answer it again.”

  In choosing me for the role, didn’t you find out I have an exceptional memory? Steffen decided not to speak his thoughts aloud.

  “I quote the speaker verbatim whenever possible,” he said. “I only summarize if absolutely necessary.”

  Wilfre continued to test him until they arrived. Steffen’s eagerness to leave Wilfre’s company had diminished his nervousness. But it all came back when the King of Kyrro asked his name.

  “Steffen Duroby, sire.” He bowed.

  “Thank you for doing this.” Welson surprised him with a humble tone. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He smiled.

  Steffen was overcome with pride.

  “It’s my pleasure” suddenly came out of him, Steffen realizing shortly after that it was the truth.

  The gate opened and Steffen nervously went through it in the middle of Welson’s retinue. There were hundreds, all of the men warriors and all of the women mages.

  As Steffen walked with them through the Fjallejon Pathway, many questions came to mind, making Wilfre’s rule of not speaking harder and harder to follow the farther he got from the Academy.

  The woman nearest to him wore a red robe. She was tall, like Reela, but with wide shoulders and a hard look in her dark eyes. Still, she seemed less threatening than the men nearby, a few big enough to weigh twice as much as him.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “Yes, scribe. We’ll be doing nothing but walking for ten miles. If you have something to say, I don’t see why you’d even need to ask permission.”

  He took a moment to curse Wilfre in his mind.

  “I was wondering why so many are escorting the King to this meeting,” Steffen said. “It’s just to discuss terms of peace, correct?”

  “Yes, but the King still needs protection.”

  “But then why so many?” Steffen asked.

  “That would be a better question for Hem Baom,” the mage said.

  Alex’s brother. I didn’t know he was with us. Steffen had never met the man, he realized. So he wouldn’t recognize him unless he resembled Alex closely enough.

  “He walks beside the King toward the front,” the mage continued. “But I don’t recommend bothering him.”

  “Then could you at least tell me why you believe Welson has brought hundreds with him?”

  The woman shrugged. “Why not bring this many? As long as he doesn’t bring enough men and women to scare Tegry into retreating before signing the treaty, then there’s no harm.”

  “So Tegry could be bringing his entire army?”

  “If he does, we’ll turn around the moment we see them. I’m sure Tegry chose a number in the same way our king did.”

  Steffen found himself quite interested in the politics of it all. He wondered how much thought went into the number. This mage wouldn’t know, but there was something else of interest that she might.

  “Why are no psychics allowed?” Steffen asked.

  “There’s too much history between Welson and Tegry. This meeting isn’t about anything but signing a
treaty. Psychics being there could change it into a discussion of secrets and motives. I’m sure neither king wants that right now, maybe never.”

  Steffen stayed behind the mage the whole way through the Fjallejon Pathway. They ate as they walked. Steffen was surprised to learn that the King was doing the same. He didn’t stop, nor was he carried at any point during their trip. He walked just like they did. Steffen had never met the King, but his humility quickly earned Steffen’s respect.

  He already knew much about Welson—that he wouldn’t take a wife or have a child until matters with Tenred were resolved, that he ruled out of love for Kyrro, unlike his father in his later years. Yet Steffen had still expected a proud man who relished the benefits of wealth and power. Welson Kimard was not that man.

  Steffen was eager to witness the meeting between his monarch and Tegry Hiller—a known liar. Steffen wanted to see Tegry grovel and apologize for everything he’d done—turning the Krepps against Kyrro, developing heinous potions that melt skin, causing thousands to die because of this stupid war, Marratrice included. Steffen wondered how Tegry’s people could serve him like those in Kyrro could serve Welson.

  Don’t they know they’re the villains? He thought of Brady and the other traitors. How could their perception of Tenred be so different from mine?

  With the sun hidden behind the tall slabs of mountains, it was difficult to tell the time within the twisting Fjallejon Pathway. Shade drenched them, chilling Steffen as his legs began to ache.

  Eventually they came to the last turn. A blanket of clouds covered the sky, thick enough to block all but a small glow of orange from the east.

  Their group stopped. To Steffen’s right, the trees of Corin Forest swayed in the wind. Ahead was clear land for about a mile, until a hill blocked the rest of his view except for the top of Tenred’s castle, the apex of it taller than the peak of the Fjallejon Mountains.

  Tegry’s army came over the hill, led by a massive black and red flag held by two men in front. Time passed slowly as Steffen watched and waited to see the last man Tegry had brought. But they continued to come, more and more of them, until Steffen knew there had to be more than there were with Welson. And still they came.