Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5)

by Narro, B. T.

  “Just get some damn bandages.” Peter wasn’t amused.

  Before Jek could enjoy the victory, the officer he’d helped started shouting orders. “Load the crates on the carrier. We’re taking the bear too, so make room.” He spoke to everyone at once, turning in each direction to make sure there wasn’t a single man standing still. He found Jek. “Are you daft? Move!”

  Jek hurried to the tent. He grumbled when he saw that the ground was covered in bread and other dried food from spilled bags. The bears had made a mess, but two crates were still unopened. Then he remembered the food he and Peter had hidden. Jek jogged to the officer who was searching the enemy corpses.

  “We were hiding food over there while we were waiting for you to come.” Jek pointed.

  “So get others to help you bring it over,” the officer said without a look.

  Jek asked Calvon to help him, and he enlisted four others to join them. Peter was lying on his chest in the middle of camp, complaining about his stinging ass to anyone who came by.

  In no time, everything had been loaded onto the long carrier, ready to be wheeled back through the forest…everything except their fallen comrades.

  Jek stayed in the rear of the group, beside poor limping Peter. Calvon was somewhere in the front talking with the officer.

  “What about the bodies?” Jek wondered.

  “No one’s coming back for them,” Peter said in a cold voice. “Everyone who fights knows there will be no ceremony upon their death. Their bodies will become part of the forest, devoured by the animals, and shit out onto the soil.”

  Jek felt a chill as the image of his own death came to him.

  Chapter 17:

  JEK

  Night came while they walked. Jek was called to the front by the officer.

  “Give us some light,” he commanded, “but not bright enough to alert our enemies.”

  Jek moved Bastial Energy through him and out his wand, creating a white glow.

  “You’re young.” The officer spoke as if it were a complaint. “Don’t see many young mages.” He plucked the fabric of Jek’s official green robe. “Especially young Sartious mages. You something special?”

  “He’s the King’s Mage of the Takary Army,” Calvon answered.

  Jek feared the officer would figure he knew everything about him. Luckily, the stalwart man just looked him over once and said, “Seems too young for that role. And that robe is absurd. If it were up to me, even our mages would be in armor.”

  “Armor would just slow me down. If they get in on me with their swords, it’s more likely to get me killed than save me.” Jek only noticed the shaking of Calvon’s head after he’d finished speaking. He’d talked back to an officer. His heart jumped into his throat. Did he no longer have the same rank that he did in the palace? He’d never gotten used to holding his tongue, and the thought hadn’t even come to mind.

  Nervously, he checked the officer’s expression. With folded arms, he regarded Jek indifferently. Could it be he doesn’t know my rank, either? Jek wondered. He needed to speak to Micah.

  Jek heard people arguing behind him. “Looks like you can walk just fine.”

  Peter’s voice followed. “I can’t! Just let me get on.”

  “We can barely see. It’s more dangerous with you on it than walking on your own. The carrier could fall over, and you’d be crushed by the crates.”

  “I’m bleeding through the bandage.” Peter’s voice was loud. “I can’t keep walking.”

  Jek felt sorry for him and watched the officer to see what he would do. He found the man’s beady eyes on Calvon. “Go figure that out, will you?”

  Jek listened carefully to see how it would play out.

  “You really can’t walk?” Calvon asked.

  “How about I shoot you in the ass and we see how far you can walk,” Peter retorted.

  “Alright, weakling.” Calvon looked at the troops manning the carrier. “Stop and let him on. Any of you need a break pushing it?”

  “I’ll take one,” someone said.

  Jek looked over his shoulder to see Calvon taking the man’s spot.

  As they came into the clearing around the lake, the moon guided them the rest of the way to the base of the mountainside. Getting the carrier up it took twenty men.

  Jek wasn’t looking forward to another night in the bunker. The last was one of the worst he could remember. Sleeping chambers were dug deep into the mountain, endless rooms with thin blocks of hay as beds. They were wide enough for three men, and at least they were covered by a rough sheet of wool. One blanket belonged to each block. It was designed to be shared, though it was only big enough to fit comfortably over two men.

  Jek’s nightmare had woken not only the two strangers sharing his block of hay and blanket but countless others as well. They were confused by it, thinking he was casting magic. And when he showed them his cuts in an attempt to convince them of the truth, they claimed he must’ve gotten them earlier. One man had heard of Jek, but even he didn’t believe what was happening, claiming Jek was trying to create a false image of himself.

  There was no water and no towels or bandages. Jek was forced to walk through the bunker in the dark, dripping blood as he suffered through the stinging pain.

  The water room was covered in grime, stank like death, and was constantly guarded. Jek showed his open cuts to the disgruntled man who sat outside on a stool. He was too tired to be curious about where Jek got them, unlocking the door and warning Jek about using too much water.

  It took Jek nearly an hour that first night to tend to his wounds, but finally he was back in his firm and scratchy straw bed, half his body huddled under the sheet. The place was so dismal that he was glad Lisanda wasn’t here with him. She would be miserable. And there wasn’t one woman among them, just twenty-five thousand angry, dirty, and hungry men, all with no clue of how long they’d be there.

  Jek at least felt fortunate he’d been grouped with Calvon and Peter. Although he’d spent only one day with them, he’d already started to like and, more importantly, trust them. In situations like these, when Jek found himself attempting to avoid misery rather than seek happiness, he would trade comrades who were good company for those he could trust.

  Once they arrived back at the bunker, Calvon helped Peter up the slope as Jek followed. When the path to the officers’ quarters was about to take him on a separate route, he said goodnight.

  “Quite a first day for you,” Calvon said with Peter’s arm around his shoulder as they hobbled forward.

  “Goodnight, Jek,” Peter muttered.

  The officers slept in a room similar to everyone else’s, but their straw beds were smaller so they didn’t have to share. Jek hoped Micah hadn’t settled in for the night yet. The secretive man usually stayed up quite late at the palace, so chances were good he was still awake.

  As Micah didn’t have a room of his own, Jek tried his luck knocking on Raymess’ door.

  His knocks went unanswered. Unsure if they’d been too soft to get through the massive wooden door or were simply ignored, Jek tried one more time, this time louder, hurting his knuckles in the process.

  “Who’s there?” someone called.

  “Jek Trayden. I’m looking for Micah.”

  “Come in.”

  Raymess and Micah were seated across from each other, a parchment of some sort across the adviser’s lap. He stood and rolled it up.

  “Have you heard that we found food?” Jek inquired.

  “A messenger just came by,” Micah said. “Tobkin left to see how much there is. It was your group that found it?”

  “It was, though mostly by luck. We were attacked, but they fled once they started to lose. We followed their tracks to a camp. That’s where we found the crates.”

  “Jek.” Raymess stood from his chair. “My father chose well when he appointed you the King’s Mage. We haven’t yet officially discussed this, but I would like you to remain in that position for me.” Jek listened for pri
de in Raymess’ voice, but the man seemed too tired and hungry. Either that or he was suddenly humble—something Jek had never seen in him before.

  “I’m honored, my king.” The mention of Raymess’ title felt forced and uncomfortable. “I was curious what my rank is among these men.”

  Both Micah and Raymess seemed to understand, nodding.

  “It’s complicated,” Micah said, tilting his chin to show Jek a knowing look. He’d explained previously that when a man of higher rank begins his response by first describing how complicated the situation is, it means he doesn’t have a direct answer. A king and his council had to know the solution to every problem. And when they didn’t, they still had to pretend they did. “In Goldram, every mage, bowman, and swordsman was below you and the King’s Warrior. But the officers here don’t all serve the Goldram Army. About half are from Zav, and they have a different system of ranking their men.”

  Raymess interrupted Micah with a yawn, apologizing as he covered his mouth. “Forgive me. The day has been long.” He fixed Jek with a hard stare. “The truth is that there’s no one here I trust more than you and Micah.”

  Jek was shocked. He’d never heard Raymess say something so heartfelt to him.

  “Micah explained what happened at the palace.” The monarch’s next words got caught in his throat. “You were there for my family when I wasn’t. And I’ll never forget that you saved my mother’s life and my own when we were captured in Chanren and taken to Karri Forest. I can make your rank higher than any officer if that’s what you choose.”

  Has he always had this respect for me? Overwhelmed with pride, Jek dropped to one knee and lowered his head. “The rank isn’t as important to me as being able to sleep somewhere separate from everyone. With my condition, I woke countless people last night, and it was very difficult to get my wounds cleaned and bandaged.”

  “Say no more,” Raymess replied. “And please stand.” The boom of his voice made it difficult for Jek to look him in the eye. He was no longer Lisanda’s older brother. He was Jek’s king. “Your rank will be equal to the other officers. However, because of your affliction, you can stay with Micah and Tobkin. Clean water and an empty basin will be brought to their room along with towels and bandages.” The practiced commanding look of his face broke when he turned to Micah. “There’s room for the young man, right?”

  “There’s room.” Micah showed Jek a brotherly half-smile.

  “Was there anything else?” Raymess inquired.

  “Forgive me if this question is out of place,” Jek began. “I’m curious if anything has changed now that we’ve found food.” He paused, nervousness almost keeping him from continuing. “Is there still a chance we’ll need to give up?”

  “It’s my understanding that only three crates of food were found,” Raymess said. “No matter how big they are, there can’t be enough for twenty-five thousand men. Right now we’re eagerly awaiting the return of everyone Tobkin sent out to retrieve food. We’re also setting up a delivery that should keep us fed for weeks. If things go wrong…this battle may be lost.”

  So is there even a point to going out into the forest and risking our lives as we wait? Jek wondered if there was some way he could phrase it without drawing a rebuke.

  Giving up, he bowed his head. “I see. Thank you, my king.” He turned for the door. But luck gave him the chance he needed to express his true concerns when Micah told him to wait.

  “I’ll go with you.” Micah looked to Raymess apologetically. “I think we should rest and see what ideas come to us in the morning.”

  Raymess’ gaze fell as he sighed tiredly. “You’re right. Sleep well.”

  “Sleep well, my king.” Micah left with Jek.

  Impatiently, Jek barely managed to wait until they reached their sleeping quarters. Without noticing anything about the room other than that no one else was there, Jek let his worries flood out.

  “Is it really prudent to send everyone out into the forest hunting for skunks? I mean...” Jek was surprised the word had come so naturally.

  “Go on,” Micah urged. “I’m familiar with the term by now.” His seemed to already know what Jek was about to say.

  “I suppose I just don’t understand the point of risking death if this war is about getting food into the bunker.”

  Micah chuckled. “It is a bunker, isn’t it? It was designed as a fort. But they couldn’t build on the mountain, so they dug into it. The purpose of this place was to secure control of the east. With the lake protecting its backside, this fortification is unlikely to fall as long as it’s guarded. But it wasn’t built in anticipation of a siege. The land hasn’t been cultivated. This battle has become about food for the moment because we’re running out. But the true battle has and always will be about numbers, positioning, and the demonstration of resilience. To hunt skunks is to show not only our enemies that we’ll keep fighting, but it screams this message to us as well. The more of them we kill, the easier it’ll be when we get another food delivery.” A dark look came over his face.

  “What do you mean?” Jek blurted before giving himself time to think.

  “Depending on how many of our men return with food, they might have the numbers on us. Once it’s clear starving us isn’t going to work, what do you think they’re going to do?”

  Jek could tell by his tone that “leave” wasn’t the right answer.

  Chapter 18:

  JEK

  Jek met Calvon by the lake, the morning sun reflecting off the clear water. “I don’t suppose there are any fish?” Jek asked.

  “If there were, there aren’t anymore.”

  Groups of men were waiting around the lake for their last members. Jek started toward the glistening water, drawn to it like a painting he wanted to see up close.

  “Stop,” Calvon said. “No one’s allowed near the lake except those responsible for giving everyone clean water.”

  With the pristine nature of the lake, it made sense. Without the rule, it would’ve been murky, tainted by the dirt, oil, and disrespect of thousands of men.

  “What about baths, then?” Jek wondered.

  “Just have to hope it rains when you want one. Are you ready to go?”

  “What about Peter?”

  “He needs a day or two for his gash to close. It’s just going to be us.” The hesitance in his tone spoke of his discomfort with the situation.

  “Then I’m ready.” Jek smiled to relieve the tension. “And I hope it rains today.” He already was longing for a bath and clean clothes.

  Calvon returned a smile. “I wouldn’t bet on that. There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  It wasn’t long before Jek realized that Calvon was taking them through the same route as yesterday.

  “Do you always go the same way?”

  “It depends. But after everything that happened yesterday, I want to retrace the same path to see if we can find any clues. Locating an enemy camp is the best we can hope for. We were fortunate to find one with a recent food delivery.”

  Deeper into the northern end of the forest, they stopped speaking. As Jek followed Calvon, the scout sought tracks, examining the ground and plants just as much with his hands as his eyes. Jek glimpsed the forest before them, beside them, even behind them. He was vigilant. But after lunch—or rather, after they skipped lunch, as they would every day until this was over—Jek couldn’t keep his focus.

  His stomach tormented him, making it easy to forget they weren’t hunting animals to eat but Humans to kill. “Do you get used to the hunger?” he asked.

  “To some extent,” Calvon whispered as he squatted to check a cracked leaf.

  The baby-faced man’s constant concentration on his task was something Jek could never hope to achieve. Though, his hunger was forgotten when Lisanda stepped into his thoughts, his hunger for food, at least. The steady beat of his heart became sporadic as she undressed—the memories of their first night sharing a bed heating his whole body.

  He’d only desire
d her more since that night. He knew Lisanda wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world. But to him, she was. There was something about her—the nature of her smile, the grace of her walk, the rhythm of her speech, the call of her eyes, the taste of her lips, the press of her body against his, the feeling of her soft skin in his hands. She would never be anything but desirable. She made him feel the same way he did when he remembered a delicious meal he hadn’t eaten in too long. This came every time he saw her, thought of her, remembered her.

  He could think of many tortures, yet none would compare to losing Lisanda.

  But recently, his memories of her were shackled to marriage. Perhaps because Lisanda said his eyes reminded her of the ocean, he felt like he was pulling a chain out of the depths of his sea of memories. Every link was connected. The shine of her dark hair came with its scent, came with kissing her neck, came with long nights of caresses and whispers. Without fail, he eventually would pull up the end of the chain…the anchor—marriage. It would come down over the railing of the boat with a crash.

  There wasn’t one thing he could commit to doing his whole life that didn’t terrify him. And being with Lisanda was no different. He loved to sing, but he grew tired of songs too easily to enjoy a career in music. He loved Sannil and Kalli, but he couldn’t imagine living with them into old age. He loved magic, but he’d trade it in an instant to get rid of his darkness. He loved Lisanda, but…

  “There will always be a but.”

  Sannil had told him this the last time they were speaking about marriage. His father added, “And even when there’s not, we can convince ourselves there is in the same way a child can convince himself there’s a monster hiding in his wardrobe.”

  “Are you saying I should take Danvell’s advice and propose?” Jek had asked incredulously, knowing his father didn’t believe in marriage between adults so young.

  “I would never advise you to propose before you’re ready. I’m merely trying to help you see that there will always be fears. Marriage isn’t a proclamation of eternal happiness. It’s a commitment of loyalty and love. When you agreed to be the King’s Mage, you knew there would be work, hardship, and battles. It’s the same with marriage, only everything you face will be together.”