A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4)

by B. T. Narro

  “Sanya Grayhart. Haven’t you heard about her?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, she’s dangerous.”

  “So am I.” Abith lifted his eyebrows in mockery of the situation, clearly undeterred.

  “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?”

  “The same thing as you. I’m here to improve.”

  Basen stepped back and spread his arms. “Then let’s see how someone like you has learned to fight so well. Show me what you do to improve.”

  Abith put up his finger as if about to give a lesson. “For some of us, fighting isn’t a skill to be learned. It’s something we inherently know and just have to refine. There are many capable men who find themselves to be good with both wand and sword at an early age. They choose to train in one skill, and soon they stop improving the other. But you and I have chosen both, and now we can use one to help train the other.”

  It was Basen’s turn to smile. He’d figured Abith must use bastial energy for something more than making fireballs, and his former instructor had all but confirmed it.

  “Show me a portal,” Abith blurted.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I want to see it again.” There was frightening determination in his raspy voice and something about his eyes that made Basen nervous. Abith looked obsessed, as if he’d dreamed of making portals every night since Basen had done so in front of him.

  “I can’t make one just anywhere,” Basen explained. He wasn’t sure he wanted to say more. If Abith learned to make portals, would it be safe for the Academy?

  “Then where can you make one?”

  “How about we focus on sword training instead.” Basen tried to distract Abith by lifting his blade to start a duel.

  Abith didn’t lift his own weapon, so Basen came at him, but Abith still refused to move.

  “Ha!” Basen feigned a strike at Abith’s stomach.

  Looking bored, Abith swiped his arm in a flash and knocked Basen’s sword out of his hand.

  “Oh.” Basen let his shoulders droop in disappointment as he retrieved his sword.

  Abith frowned. “How am I supposed to shape you into the fighter I know you can be if you won’t trust me?”

  “I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to trust me while I don’t trust you?”

  “Yes.”

  He snatched up his sword and pointed it at Abith. “Except I’ve given you no reason to distrust me, while there are plenty of reasons to distrust you.”

  “Interesting how you talk about distrust instead of trust.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “No, it isn’t. You speak as if I’m supposed to trust you until you give me a reason not to. But you haven’t given me a reason to trust you. Don’t you see the difference?”

  Basen had almost forgotten how attentive Abith was to detail. Of course Basen knew what Abith was talking about. Basen had made a point to phrase it exactly as he had.

  Abith’s smile grew wider. “You thought I wouldn’t notice. You should know by now I notice everything. I also know you’re stalling about the portals.”

  “I—”

  Abith put up his hands. “You’re right—I have given you reasons to distrust me. It’ll take time for you to trust me as you once did. In the meantime, let me assure you I’m not asking about portals in hopes of making one myself. I need to know because we are allies, and I plan to use your skill to win this war.”

  Basen believed Abith did have intentions of making portals, but that he also would use Basen’s skills to win the war. Abith had already betrayed Tauwin. There was no way the young king, as foolish as he was, would take Abith back. That made Abith and Basen allies, at least against Tauwin.

  “A portal can be opened only where bastial energy has been gathered many times before.”

  “How many times must bastial energy be gathered to make a portal?” Abith asked.

  Of course he would be the only person to pose such a specific question.

  “I don’t know.” Basen blew out a frustrated breath so Abith would know not to interrupt him with such silliness again. “A lot, but it depends on the amount. Probably hundreds of fireballs or a few massive surges of bastial energy. The portal can only lead to somewhere I’ve been before, where enough energy has been gathered over time. Those are the only facts I know. Everything else is theory.”

  “Tell me of the theory.”

  So Basen went on to explain portals as holes in “walls” that can’t be seen. When energy is gathered in one spot over time, it weakens the wall. Before he could say more, Abith interrupted him.

  “What would happen if one of these walls breaks apart from too much gathered energy?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps a portal would be created until the world rebuilt the wall.”

  “Do you think a portal could become permanent?”

  “It doesn’t seem possible. A portal is a gateway that needs stability. Whenever I’ve made one, I feel like I’m forcing open a door. The bigger the portal, the more difficult it is to keep it from closing. Small portals might be formed on their own from broken walls, but I would imagine they close so quickly we never see them.”

  He didn’t want to say more, as soon the conversation would turn to akorell metal, and specifically the akorell stone Basen had in his room.

  Terren’s voice surprised him from above. “Basen, what are you doing here?”

  “I told him to leave, headmaster,” the wall guard said. “Abith argued for him to stay.”

  What am I doing here…? What are YOU doing here?

  “Throw him the rope,” the headmaster said to the guard, and the man tied one end around the parapets and tossed the other down. “Climb up, Basen.”

  He looked at Abith, still trying to figure out what was going on. Abith shrugged. “Better do as the headmaster says.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Basen begrudgingly climbed up. He studied Terren and caught sight of the hilt of a training sword in the headmaster’s scabbard as Terren turned his hip to hide the weapon. Basen gasped, then let out a proud smile to show he knew exactly what he’d stumbled upon.

  These two were enemies. Each man’s safety depended on the other’s death. They were only allies because Tauwin and Ulric’s massive armies had joined forces, and yet Terren and Abith had come here to spar. Of course it was in private, for if anyone found out, Terren’s judgment might be put into question. The instructors would certainly advise him against training with the man who meant to steal his job.

  At the same time, Abith’s troops would look at him with raised eyebrows. He was their leader, and they expected him to lead the Academy one day, securing their futures in the process. To see Abith training with the current headmaster was akin to him accepting his rival as an equal, maybe even a friend.

  Terren cursed. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Especially not your father.”

  Of course, Henry was always the last to trust people. He wouldn’t agree with Terren’s choice to be here with Abith.

  “I won’t,” Basen said, “but first tell me why you would train with each other?”

  “Shall I remove him?” the annoying wall guard asked the headmaster.

  “It’s fine,” Abith called up from below. “Tell him why, headmaster.” He spoke the title in a tone of both praise and jest, as if he were teasing an old friend. This is not the first time they’ve trained together, Basen realized. They’ve come here often.

  “It shouldn’t be hard to believe that the challenge of facing each other is worth the ramifications of anyone finding out,” Terren said as he got his long legs over the parapets and let himself down. He was about the same size as Cleve, towering over Abith as they faced each other. Terren then looked up at Basen as if trying to shoo him with his eyes.

  Basen folded his arms. “I have to witness what I’m not supposed to tell anyone about.”

  Terren sighed. “You’d better be as good at keeping this secret as you were
about your secret plot with Fatholl.”

  “I promise I will be.”

  Abith tried to poke Terren in the ass while he wasn’t looking, but Terren noticed his enemy’s movement out of the corner of his eye and swiped his sword behind him. Suddenly, the two men were engaged in a fierce duel.

  Abith’s attacks were quick and light while Terren’s were slower and more powerful. Basen had been taught that quickness always beats strength, but he found himself hoping that wasn’t the case as he watched Terren step away defensively.

  It was concerning that neither wore a protective tunic, but Basen soon realized their skill prevented them from severe injuries. They knew how to protect themselves too well for a wooden sword to do permanent damage.

  It only took a moment for Basen to see that Terren used the same techniques as Cleve. Both seemed to prefer blocking an attack rather than deflecting it, creating the opportunity to counterattack and surprise their opponents. Terren even began to sweat like Cleve, a ring of it on his chest like a necklace as his forehead glistened.

  The headmaster surprised both Basen and Abith when he blocked Abith’s sword with his own, then jumped toward his opponent and delivered a kick to his chest.

  Abith stumbled back two steps, though his composure didn’t break. He fought with more tenacity and speed as he came at Terren again. He spun around and smacked Terren in the side of his leg. Had it been a real blade, Terren would’ve been cut, though not deeply. Had it been his usual bastial steel sword, however, it might’ve sliced through to bone.

  It was a clear point, but Basen had assumed the kick would’ve scored Terren a point as well, yet neither man stopped.

  It didn’t take long for Abith to score a few more strikes. He won his points with grace, never reacting with a shout or a strut. A subtle smirk never left his face, though. Basen could see by their expressions that both men knew Terren was losing.

  This only seemed to make him fight harder. Terren’s face took on a look of deep concentration as his mouth fell open. The only time it closed was when Abith made another strike against flesh. However, none were blows that would’ve led immediately to Terren’s death, even if done with a bastial steel sword. He could only catch Terren’s limbs, never his torso.

  Eventually, Terren delivered his own strike, and it was nothing like Abith’s light pokes. The headmaster had finally gotten an offensive going, forcing Abith to dodge a downward strike, then a punch aimed at his chin. Terren was able to push him off balance before Abith could counterattack, and then followed up with a fierce jab of his sword into Abith’s unprotected stomach. It was hard enough to knock Abith down. He grunted in pain.

  Terren appeared concerned, but Abith put his hand up. “I’m all right.”

  “There was someone Vithos and I fought on the mountaintop,” Basen said. “Bigger than any man I’ve seen.”

  Terren and Abith looked up at him. They both seemed tired, as they should be. This was the first break in at least half an hour. Basen could think of no better time to bring up the one thing about his recent excursion that bothered him more than Fatholl still being alive.

  “No psychic could harm him, not even Vithos or Fatholl. He fought with a shield and an axe, both of bastial steel. I watched him cleave an Elf and lift him off the ground as if the Elf weighed nothing. This giant practically laughed at me when I tried to shoot him with a fireball, absorbing it with his shield.”

  Silence followed as the two men waited for Basen to continue.

  “None of the students or instructors speak of it, but we all know battle is coming soon. We will see him again.”

  Then, as if Basen hadn’t spoken, the two of them turned to each other and began to fight once more. They poured their concentration into studying each other as they alternated between defending and attacking.

  At first, Basen figured they were fighting until a victor was chosen. But as the hour came to an end and they were still scoring points as if this was a real fight, Basen realized this was not the case.

  They both moved as quickly as students half their age. Even as Terren sweated through his shirt, he never lost his vigor. Meanwhile, Abith remained as quick as a cat. The only time he lost his smile was when Terren did something unexpected, like spinning and kicking Abith’s sword out of his hand. Basen was amazed at the headmaster’s agility, figuring he must use bastial energy in the same way Cleve and Abith did.

  Eventually, Basen was able to forget about the giant atop the mountain and focus purely on this duel. He felt the itch to fight, to do what he came here to do. He knew bastial energy could help him be a better swordsman, and this was proof. He saw it work for Terren and Abith in their sudden bursts of speed and strength that couldn’t otherwise be explained.

  Basen eventually lost track of how many points each man scored, as it obviously mattered not to them. Finally, Terren put out his hand and stepped away from Abith.

  “Enough for me.”

  “Very well.”

  Terren whistled, and the wall guard came over and tied the rope to the parapets once again. He looked in each direction before telling Terren, “It’s clear.”

  The headmaster climbed up first, then put his sweaty hand on Basen’s shoulder and looked into his eyes.

  “Every man can be killed.”

  There was something about hearing that from Terren that put Basen’s mind at ease. The headmaster hadn’t shown even an inkling what to do about this threat, yet Basen still trusted him to handle it. There was comfort in that.

  Terren and the wall guard left, but Abith stayed and told Basen to wait.

  Basen left his own sword on the wall, then jumped down to stand in front of Abith. “Did my father speak to you?”

  “No. Do you need his permission to train with me?”

  “No, but it would make my life easier.”

  Abith grinned and patted Basen on the back. Both he and Terren seemed to be in better spirits after their session. “If that’s the path you choose, then fine.” Abith started to walk toward the wall, clearly having decided Basen wasn’t ready to train with him.

  “Wait,” Basen said. “Can I use your training sword?”

  Abith smirked. “Saw something you want to try for yourself, did you?”

  Basen nodded and caught the sword Abith tossed to him.

  “That’s my training sword, so I expect you to treat it better than you would your own,” Abith said. “Bring it back to me at Warrior’s Field before dinner hours.”

  Finally, after everyone else had gone, even the wall guard, Basen was alone. He whispered,, “Prepare yourself, Ovira, for Basen Hiller!” He grabbed bastial energy out of the air and readied his sword for the most powerful swing he’d ever made, then moved the bastial energy into his arms, and…

  “Ow!”

  He cursed and flapped his arms like a fat bird too heavy to achieve flight. He hoped nobody had seen him burn himself, and he especially hoped Abith hadn’t seen him toss the sword by accident. Basen picked up Abith’s weapon and placed it at the base of the wall where he could find it again. Basen didn’t want to risk hurling it against the wall, and it seemed as if it might take time to figure out how to do this.

  One thing was for certain, pain meant he was doing it wrong. He gathered less energy this time, reminding himself that warriors like Cleve and Terren could do this, so it probably didn’t take much energy. He sucked in air through his teeth as he spread the energy down his arms and felt his skin singeing. It was still too much.

  Something occurred to him. Cleve and Terren probably couldn’t grab bastial energy from the air because that would mean they could make light. They have to be using the energy already within their bodies. This energy was easier to manipulate, and there was less of it.

  Basen closed his eyes and concentrated. There was probably enough energy within him to make a tiny fireball if he forced it into a ball and mixed in sartious energy from his wand. So just to be safe, he removed his wand from its sheath and set it next to Abith�
��s sword. The last thing Basen needed was to scorch his insides. He thought of Penny and her distrust of his abilities. She’d always assumed he would hurt himself or others, and he didn’t want to prove her right.

  As he kept his eyes shut, the wind was all he could hear. It did nothing to disrupt the energy he felt mostly in his chest and stomach but also in his limbs. Bastial energy had a feeling similar to a feather resting on him or a soft blanket of heat when there was more of it. BE was trapped beneath his skin, no doubt doing something to keep him alive, though no one had proven the health benefits of it yet. Psychics had only confirmed it was in every living creature. Basen had felt the effects of it leaving his body when he needed every last bit of energy for fire. It had made him sick and cold, as if death was creeping closer, ready to grab him and never let go.

  He took hold of the energy in his torso and tried to move it into his right arm, but all he managed to do was drag it out of his chest and press it against the skin of his arm.

  Next he tried directing the energy through his shoulder and then down his arm, but when he got it there he felt no different. He hurried over to grab Abith’s sword and take a test swing, but the excess energy had left his arm.

  Basen put the sword back down and closed his eyes. For a while, he tested the energy in his body in various ways. He noticed it was much harder to pull bastial energy from the air into his body than it was to draw out the energy already there and then stuff it back in. It was as if the energy in his body was different than that in the air, making his body more able to accept it.

  Psyche, he remembered, was the manipulation of someone’s personal bastial energy. There had to be something unique about it, a connection between it and his feelings. Perhaps even his thoughts?

  Meditation…what had Nick said about it? It’s like breathing, the energy flowing in and out without effort. Basen felt chills as everything he knew about bastial energy was connecting.

  If psychics could manipulate bastial energy to make people feel real pain, then Basen should be able to manipulate his own energy to…

  He forgot the world around him as he kept his eyes shut and focused.