by B. T. Narro
Others mimicked Alex, spreading the word. It rippled around the stadium until all were seated and quiet in fearful expectation.
“The next few days will tell us exactly what this all means, but we have to be cautious. A wall guard was killed, most likely by my assailant. I have sent an order by pigeon to the king about this breach, requesting a hundred more men to watch our walls. No one, not even instructors, will be living alone anymore. Every house will have at least one warrior, mage, or capable psychic. Doors and windows are to be locked at all times.”
“Terren!” A wall guard ran into the stadium. A flutter of gasps erupted from the audience as even Cleve joined them in standing this time, his heart in his throat.
“What is it?” Terren asked.
“An army approaches from the south.” The armored bowman stopped just inside the entrance, showing he wanted to return from where he came. “It’s too dark to see their numbers, but they approach from the capital. I know it doesn’t make sense, but—”
“It does make sense!” Terren interrupted. “Someone means to take the Academy, and it’s not our king. Everyone retrieve your weapons and armor and meet at the southern wall for orders. Go now, and be brave.” He clapped his hands. “Go!”
It had been months since Cleve had taken a life. He could feel himself hardening from the inside out as the familiar feeling came back, his nerves dulling.
He ran with his housemates, Effie muttering curses.
“We might not need to fight, Eff,” Reela said.
“If only that had ever been true, I might let myself believe it.”
“It doesn’t mean war, yet,” Cleve broke in. “And even if it does, just take it one day at a time. Tonight, we might need to defend our walls. Only worry about that.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Steffen said. “No army would come from the capital to take the Academy unless they’ve already taken the capital.”
Their conversation halted at that thought. Cleve picked up his speed. The others stayed beside him.
“Are you saying that’s what happened, Steffen?” Effie asked.
“I don’t see any other explanation.”
Unfortunately Cleve had never known Steffen to be wrong about matters such as this. “What does that mean for the king?”
“He’s likely dead.”
“Steffen!” Reela chided.
“What?”
“I don’t care how certain you might be, don’t spread the idea that our king has been killed, especially not before battle!”
Effie clicked her tongue. “I thought you said there might not be a battle, Reela!”
“I—”
“Let’s just keep quiet for now,” Cleve interrupted. “When we get to the southern wall, we’ll get our orders from Terren.”
By everyone’s reticence, it seemed they agreed.
Like most of the student warriors, Cleve owned no armor. It had been provided by the Academy and would be again. He’d seen Warrior Sneary and other instructors go east from Redfield instead of west, and Cleve knew it was to gather all the armor they could from the storage house.
Once home, Cleve went straight for the weapons chest he’d moved into Reela’s room. His bastial steel sword was already in a sheath attached to the belt he wore, for the invaluable weapon never left his body except when he slept. Everything else remained in the chest his father had bought him too long ago to remember. He buckled his quiver to the right side of his belt, filled it with as many arrows as he could fit comfortably, and grabbed the tall longbow that had belonged to his father.
It didn’t matter if Cleve was on his way to train or hurrying to defend the Academy’s walls against an army; every time he held the ironbark bow, he thought of his father, and then his mother. The memories of his murdered parents used to bring him such pain that he’d forced himself to bury them where his mind couldn’t reach. But that was long ago, when he was a different man. Now these emotions brought him strength as he ran toward the wall with Reela at his side. It was almost as if he could feel his father watching over his shoulder.
If there was one thing he could change about the Academy, it would be the height of the walls. From their parapets to the ground was only ten feet, and it didn’t feel high enough as Cleve joined what appeared to be half of the Academy gathered around the locked gate. No doubt the other half was on the way. Terren’s orders were never ignored. No one fled. No one cowered.
Cleve’s bright bastial steel sword attracted stares but seemed to give people comfort. They often nodded or smiled, and he responded with nods of his own. Looking around the crowd, Cleve realized he recognized most everyone here.
That’s why they don’t appear frightened. These are all third-years and second-years. The first-year houses were the farthest from Redfield and from the southern gate, but Cleve’s house was the same distance as theirs. Fear and panic must’ve slowed them.
This was the part Cleve hated the most of any battle. The waiting. Terren wouldn’t speak until everyone was here. Cleve separated from Reela for the moment to join his uncle above the gate for a glimpse at their enemies.
The deep blue sky was bright with stars, but the land was overcast in darkness. The approaching fighters looked no different than the trees they passed between, except for movement. Whoever they were, they couldn’t be more than a mile away.
Good, let them come.
Terren handed over a spyglass. “Use those eyes you got from my brother and tell me what you see.” He pointed at something glowing a good distance in front of the army. Cleve looked through the spyglass and immediately recognized the silhouette of a woman, but he couldn’t tell more than that.
“She seems to be wearing or holding something that’s giving off light, maybe a wand. It’s near her hand, I think.”
“How far in front of the army does she appear to you?”
Cleve strained his eyes as he glanced back and forth between the woman and the following army.
“Four or five hundred yards. She seems to be limping, definitely moving slower than the army. I don’t think she’s going to make it in time if she’s trying to escape them.” Then the woman began to wave her light as if signaling.
“Can I use the spyglass?” Basen asked, stepping between Cleve and his uncle and reaching for it. Cleve hadn’t known Basen was there. He put the spyglass up to his eye.
“Do you know her?” Cleve asked.
“I might.” Basen leaned out over the parapets as if it would help, then muttered to himself, “Shit. Alabell, what in god’s world are you doing out there?”
“How could you know it was her?” Cleve asked.
“That glowing light is not a wand. It seems to be around her wrist, which tells me it’s an akorell stone on a bracelet.”
“A what?”
“Then it’s likely the castle was attacked as I thought,” Terren said, as he and Basen ignored Cleve. “She must’ve gotten out.”
“Open the gate!” Basen called to those below.
“Hold!” Terren shouted, grabbing Basen’s shoulder. “They’re going to shoot her before she’s close enough for you to help her.” His tone shared none of the same panic in Basen’s. “It’s pointless.”
“I have to try!” Basen started climbing over the parapets. “Just have the gate open and ready to be shut when I get back.” Before Cleve or Terren could say anything, Basen swung his other leg over, held on while extending his body down, and then let himself drop.
“She’s a half-mile away,” Cleve finally sputtered, though only Terren was left to hear it. “He can’t expect to get to her before the army is close enough to shoot.”
“My exact thoughts.”
And even if they avoid being hit, how can he carry her all the way back? Then Cleve realized what he had to do. He handed Terren his bow and then detached his quiver.
Terren took them reluctantly. “Cleve—”
“We finished first on endurance day. There’s no one better.”
; “Cleve! You just said they’ll be able to shoot her by the time he gets there!”
But Cleve was already on the ground running.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
After three and a half miles of trying to run on her injured ankle, Alabell couldn’t put weight on it any longer. The Academy was still a half-mile away, and Tauwin’s men were catching up quickly.
They hadn’t come all this way from the capital just for her, but she could think of no reason why they wouldn’t shoot someone in her position—fleeing from the capital to the Academy, where they were certainly headed to capture it for Tauwin. They wouldn’t waste their arrows attempting to shoot farther than a hundred yards, but that wasn’t a distance she could maintain.
A creeping fear of death kept her limping through the pain, but she knew in her heart she wouldn’t make it. Yet she wouldn’t give up. She’d burned Tauwin’s arm and hopefully more, but she could feel he was still alive. If it came to her last breath, she would right this wrong.
The pull of exhaustion was so strong that she found her eyes closing as she hobbled on. While her right ankle was ruined for the moment, spasms racked her left leg because of the extra strain it had been forced to bear.
She stumbled over a rock buried in the dirt. Her reflexes forced her right foot down so she wouldn’t fall. The sudden weight made her scream, and she hit the ground anyway.
Trying to get up on one foot, Alabell slipped and almost used her right leg again. Dry sobs heaved out of her chest, for she was too parched and tired to cry. By the time she got back up, she could hear the voices of the army behind her. They were ever closer, draining the last of her hope.
Suddenly, she saw two silhouettes against the shadow of the Academy’s wall. They appeared to be running toward her. Not just running, sprinting!
With her hope returning, she hopped, limped, and hobbled toward them, alternating between whatever moved her the quickest.
But she could clearly hear the army behind her now—not just their voices but the thud of their boots. Their stride was fast and steady, showing no signs of fatigue. She checked their distance. They couldn’t be more than a hundred yards away now. Soon they would begin to shoot.
A shadow took shape in the sky as something soared out from them. The first arrow! She tripped and fell trying to dodge it. Two more followed, one of them landing close enough to pull a quick shriek from her throat. She considered removing her akorell stone, its light a beacon amidst the sea of darkness, but the two figures coming for her from the Academy were near. She couldn’t risk delaying them, as they were her only hope.
She kept her eyes on them as they closed in, arrows now falling around them as well. Unable to move farther, she tucked herself into a ball and waited for either death or rescue.
“Alabell, is that you?”
“Yes!” She recognized his smooth tenor. “Basen?”
“Yes, and Cleve Polken is with me.”
The two men jumped apart from each other as an arrow struck between them. Another arrow whizzed by close enough to Alabell’s arm for her to feel its wind. Did Tauwin’s men know it was her and this was why they were expending so many arrows for the kill? Or were they simply bloodthirsty?
Basen and Cleve came to her sides and swept her up. Although they’d sprinted all the way to her, they maintained nearly the same speed with her in their arms.
The arrows sliced down farther and farther from them, and soon no more came.
“Thank you!” Alabell wept without tears.
“You would do the same,” Basen huffed out.
“Do you know who ordered the men behind us?” Cleve asked.
“Tauwin Takary.”
“No!” Cleve dropped his hold on her for a moment. Fortunately, Basen was agile enough to keep her from falling. He yanked her against his taut chest and wrapped an arm beneath her legs.
“Sorry,” Cleve said, and helped support half her weight once again. “Are you certain it was him?”
“I couldn’t be more certain.”
“Does he have the support of Goldram’s army?” Cleve asked.
Alabell had never thought about that. “Would Danvell Takary really send men over the Starving Ocean just to support Tauwin? They’re distant cousins at best.”
“Danvell Takary is dead,” Cleve grunted out in his husky voice. “But there are many more Takarys still alive who might, like his son.”
If anyone would know, it was Cleve and Reela, who’d gone to Goldram before the year had ended. Alabell hadn’t spoken to them during her time at the Academy, but she’d seen the gorgeous couple around, and it was impossible to attend the school without knowing of them. However, Alabell had heard nothing about their trip across the Starving Ocean.
“Why would the Takarys in Goldram want to support Tauwin?” she asked.
“Many of them believe Kyrro belongs to them.”
This wasn’t a surprise. Kyrro had been ruled by a Takary more often than not. The longest non-Takary family to rule was the Kimards, and their reign had just ended in the last war.
“What would it mean if Tauwin was in contact with the Takarys across the sea?” Basen asked.
“Then we would have no hope of winning this war,” Cleve answered bluntly.
From what Alabell had heard of Cleve, he’d never been known to exaggerate.
Basen peered into her eyes. “Are you all right?”
The question gave her a surge of emotion as she began to sob. “Tauwin killed my great-uncle…then tried to kill me and my mother. His men…got to my mother before we could escape. She died making sure I would be safe.” The strain of the words exhausted her further, as her sobs racked her battered body.
“I’m so sorry, Alabell,” Basen said, and she could feel his desire to shield her from further heartache. She wanted to curl up in his warmth and cry until her strength returned.
“Did they kill everyone in the castle?” Basen asked.
“Everyone armed with a sword, wand, or psyche.”
“What about the rest of the capital?”
“I saw many bodies dragged out onto the street for display.”
He paused, then asked cautiously, “Do you know if my father was one of them?”
How could she forget to tell Basen what she knew of Henry? “I should’ve mentioned it earlier! He likely made it to Oakshen by the time the attack began, but I don’t know if Oakshen has been taken, too. I wish I knew what became of him and the others who went with him, but I don’t.”
“I think he’s still alive,” Basen said. “Don’t ask me why, because I have no idea.”
“Because it’s healthy to have such hope,” Cleve told him. “Don’t let it go.”
They finally arrived at the open southern gate. Cleve and Basen showed signs of heavy fatigue. Alabell looked behind her one last time. The army was near enough to appear as more than shadows. She could make out the shapes of their heads and bodies between the black outlines of trees around them.
Her chest filled with pride as her rescuers carried her through the gate and into the heart of the Academy’s army. Young men and women, the best of their age, gathered around the three of them. The warriors were dressed in leather armor, all of them standing taller than most grown men…except one who appeared to be a woman.
“Alabell!”
She recognized Sanya as the woman ran to her and embraced her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, thanks to Basen and Cleve. It’s good to see you, Sanya.” Alabell heard a few people asking each other about her and her glowing bracelet.
Terren appeared beside her with a concerned but determined look on his face. Seeing him and being within the Academy’s walls again brought back a sense of home. She’d spent two years here and owed her life to Terren’s brilliant leadership. He always inspired her to be her best self. It was an honor to be standing in his presence again, even if it was on one leg while using Basen’s arm for balance.
“I’m glad to see you ag
ain, Alabell,” the headmaster said. “What can you tell us of the approaching army?”
As quickly and concisely as she could, she spoke of Tauwin and his mother coming to claim the castle and killing everyone loyal to Kerr.
“The army must be coming to take the Academy,” she concluded with confidence. “There might be a trick involved. Tauwin forced my great-uncle to sign over leadership and then killed him anyway. Tauwin’s men then killed my mother and tried to kill me as well.”
“Terren!” Warrior Sneary called from the wall above. “They’re almost here.”
“Basen, take her where she’ll be safe,” Terren said. “We’ll speak after this is done, Alabell.”
“Thank you.”
Basen whisked her up in his arms again and out from among the throng of Academy students. Soon the sound of his breathing and the crunch of his footsteps were all she could hear.
“I see you brought the akorell stone,” he said.
“I was in the vault when the attack happened, and I didn’t see reason in leaving it.”
“Good choice.”
“I’d like to stay where I can see the wall,” she requested. “Just set me down there.” She pointed to the first building in the long clearing from the southern gate, the classroom for Group One mages.
He set her on her feet, but she sank in order to sit. He took her hand to help her down.
“I would stay and watch the show with you,” he quipped, “but the stage is calling me. It’s my first performance, so I should be there on cue.”
“Wait, Basen.” She removed the akorell bracelet, careful not to touch the hot stone at its center. “Use it carefully.”
He nodded as she tied the strings around his wrist. Then he stared at her and didn’t move.
“Go. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
But as he left her, she realized that no, she wasn’t fine. She wept into her hands as all the terrible memories of the day assailed her. Then her crying became uncontrollable as she realized that the night was still young.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Terren came to a risky plan rather quickly. Basen gauged the reactions of his fellow students to see if they thought this was as dangerous as he did. The older students watched and listened, a clear trust in their eyes. They looked like seasoned soldiers standing before a respected officer. But the first-years, the sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds like Basen, glanced around as if expecting someone to come up with a better plan.
