by B. T. Narro
“I have no experience with matters like these,” complained Wilfre, the late king’s liaison. From what Basen understood, the man had been Kerr’s eyes and ears, traveling between the castle and the Academy and holding meetings with the headmaster and other instructors to further the king’s plans.
“You would be the man in charge if I had fallen,” Terren said in a cold voice that left no room for argument. “You must speak for the Academy whether or not you have experience doing so. If you’re nervous, then use it in the act.”
“Students and instructors!” a distant voice thundered. “Come to the top of the wall so we may speak.”
A fleeting look of confusion crossed Terren’s face before he gestured toward the ramp leading up to the southern wall. Basen went with hundreds of mages and archers, taking a spot beside Cleve over the center of the wall, the southern gate below them. He kept his left arm below the parapets so the glow of the akorell bracelet was mostly hidden from his enemies…and also from his instructors. They wouldn’t trust him enough to use it without hurting their own. Considering how powerful it was, he didn’t blame them.
As the rest of the mages and archers got into place, Basen studied Tauwin’s army. His enemy’s faces were hidden in darkness as they stood in rows a hundred yards away. One man walked out to separate himself from the rest. Bravely, he continued onward until he was only about thirty yards from the wall, where even mages like Basen could shoot him. The tall man’s wand came alive with light he aimed upon himself, revealing a familiar face that shocked Basen to his core.
“My name is Abith Max. I’ve come here to give you all a choice.” His brown hair was short and matted, and he still had the patch of hair sprouting beneath his bottom lip like the last time Basen had seen him.
Basen always assumed Abith had died in the war. Even more of a surprise was that this man, who had taught Basen nearly everything he knew about bastial and sartious energy, wielded a sword in his other hand. Did he even know how to use it? Basen had never seen him on the training field with Tenred’s swordsmen.
Abith paused after his introduction to study the Academy’s mages and archers. Basen lowered his head, not wanting to be recognized. If he was, nothing was said of it.
“Where are the rest of the students and instructors?” Abith yelled. There was fury beneath his tone waiting to come out if he wasn’t answered.
“The entire Academy is gathered here and within earshot,” Wilfre replied, his nerves evident in the quiver of his voice.
“You must be the liaison. Your body was not found among those in the castle.”
There was a long silence as everyone stared at Wilfre, the air swelling with anticipation for him to speak.
“What do you want with the Academy?” he uttered in his shallow voice.
“I want to see it remain as it is, with everyone who can hear me still alive by the end of this night.” Abith spread his arms and raised his voice, speaking to everyone now. “In case any of you weren’t aware, James Kerr is dead and Tauwin Takary is the new king of Kyrro. Every one of you needs to decide if you’ll stand with Tauwin or against him. There is no other choice in the matter.
“If you’re an instructor who stands with him, you’ll remain at the Academy and continue to be paid by the king. If you’re a student, you’ll continue to improve your skills until you graduate. Depending on your class and ability, you’ll find work and lead a good life. You’ll have King Tauwin’s support. This is the choice all of you want to make. Even you, Liaison Wilfre. You’ve done a fine job for the Kimard family and then for James Kerr, and Tauwin will continue to employ you. But you won’t be the head of the Academy. That’s my role now.”
“And for those who don’t go along with this?” Wilfre asked fearfully.
“They’ll die tonight like James Kerr, Terren Polken, and so many others we’ve removed. You don’t want to test our power. We’re capable of things never seen before, things you’ll learn and use to your advantage if you show the proper loyalty.”
It was as Terren had assumed—the assassin was sent to kill him as part of a plan to take the Academy. But it further proved Basen’s original thought, that Nick’s murder had nothing to do with any of this. He was convinced now; Nick’s death had to be a result of Basen making the portal in his room. Though he still couldn’t figure out how it fit in with everything.
I’m sorry, Nick. I’ll find whoever killed you and return the favor.
“No one else needs to die,” Abith continued, speaking in the soothing voice Basen had heard for years during his training. “If you set down your weapons and open the gate, this can end. We’ll walk inside and begin the transition. In just a few days, everything will be back to how it was.”
“You won’t make any changes to the way the Academy is run?” Wilfre asked.
“No. King Tauwin values the Academy as much as his cities. He plans to maintain everything as it is, and I will oversee it all as I work with him. There will be no new rules, no changes in salary, and no fighting.”
It seemed believable. Why would Tauwin want to kill all of them when he could use them instead? After all, the Academy was built to increase the power of the army by training elite young men and women. Upon acceptance, everyone signed a contract pledging service to the reigning king. Kerr’s death would’ve voided any current contracts, so everyone likely would have to sign new ones.
But Tauwin had proved he couldn’t be trusted. Alabell was living proof. Even if Tauwin’s new pet, Abith, meant what he said, Tauwin certainly wouldn’t let Alabell live considering her bloodline. God’s mercy, they’d even shot at her, Basen, and Cleve not long ago. How could Basen even consider surrendering? For a moment, fear and the desire to avoid battle had ruled his thoughts. He found his courage and pushed his doubts aside. However, he couldn’t be sure what the thousands standing beside him wanted. Not everyone had seen him and Cleve retrieve Alabell while being shot at, and even fewer had heard Alabell telling Terren not to trust anything Tauwin promised. It all came down to their loyalty to Terren.
“Liaison Wilfre, it’s time to make your choice for the people of the Academy,” Abith said. “If you look carefully at the army behind me, you’ll see that we have twice as many as you do. We’ve come prepared with rope and a battering ram, and we have thousands more on the Fjallejon Mountains, waiting for my signal. You’ll be attacked from the north and the south, and all students and instructors will be killed in a brutal battle that could’ve been avoided. It will be a waste of human life based not on pride but on stubbornness.” He glanced at the students watching, giving time for his words to sink in. “Order everyone to throw their weapons over the wall, Wilfre, and then open the gate.”
“I will allow you and your men to enter,” Wilfre said with shocking quickness. “But we don’t know each other well enough yet for me to order the discard of everyone’s weapons. You’ll have an insurmountable advantage once you’re within these walls, and that’s what I can allow—free entrance. No one here wants to fight if it can be avoided. Once all of your men are inside, we will all drop our weapons at the same time, shake hands, and put this behind us.”
Basen could no longer tell if this was a ruse or what Wilfre really wanted. He seemed like a scared man with desperate hope in his voice.
Abith wore a victorious smile. “Order everyone off the wall, open the gate, and we will enter peacefully.”
Wilfre cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted in each direction. “Off the wall, off the wall. Open the gate.”
No one moved. Perhaps Wilfre was wrong and they did want to fight. Basen knew he did, for he didn’t trust anyone speaking for Tauwin, even the same master mage who’d been his mentor for years. He could feel Cleve’s eagerness to shoot his bow by the way he held it in a firm grip. It was likely others felt the same.
“Get off the wall, now!” Wilfre yelled again. “And open the gate!”
A collective grumble of complaint rumbled through the cold night air a
s students and instructors began walking down the ramps. Basen followed Cleve as two men unlatched the bolts of the gate and walked the creaking steel outward to open it.
“Don’t let them in!” Alabell shouted, but she was too far away to be heard by most. She limped toward them in a hurry, shouting again, “Stop! They’re going to kill us all!”
But she wasn’t privy to the plan. Though, Basen couldn’t be sure it would be followed now.
Halfway down the ramp, everyone’s pace changed from a walk to a run as Terren waved his arm to direct them. “Quickly now,” he said, “make room for everyone to get down, but stay near the ramp.”
Basen could see the same happening on the other ramps along the two-mile-long wall.
Wilfre was the only man to remain atop it. “Everyone has descended, and the gate is open. You and your men may enter.”
There was a sharp whistle from outside the wall. The sound of marching followed. There wasn’t much time.
“Now, back up there!” Terren ordered. “Stay low and do not be seen!”
The students ran back up the ramps, ducking as they approached the top. Basen returned to his same spot beside Cleve, but now they lay flat on their stomachs and could only hear the approaching army.
Nearly face to face with Cleve, Basen could see nothing else. He listened as everyone hurried to get in place, most of them mages. He smiled. They would fight.
“Tell me you know how to use that thing on your wrist,” Cleve prodded.
“Not a clue.”
Basen wondered if Abith approached with his men or if he would stay back until all had entered. Basen had never known him to be particularly cautious during their lessons, part of the reason why Penny’s anger had been such a surprise.
She would take away the akorell stone in an instant if she saw it.
The marching boots came closer. Basen itched to hear the order he knew was coming. He and Cleve brought in their hands and knees to get ready to push themselves up. Basen turned his head to look at Wilfre.
The liaison slowly extended his arm behind him, making a fist.
“Now,” Terren commanded.
Basen jumped to his feet in unison with a thousand mages and hundreds of archers. It was a shock to see his enemies so close, the front of their army just reaching the gate. A few looked back at him and realized what was about to happen as Basen gathered bastial energy.
“Ambush!” they shouted to each other.
After drawing energy from the air, Basen pulled out the extra energy from his akorell stone and forced it together with his cluster. It felt like ripping a rock from the earth that was then too heavy to hold. Fortunately, he already had the sartious energy from his wand mixing into the burning bastial energy.
Heat blasted the entire front of his body, scorching his hand. He fell backward in reflex as he closed his eyes and let the momentum of the BE take the fireball into the ground below. Screams rang out as an explosion brightened the night like a flash of lightning.
Basen scrambled back to his feet in time to see the aftermath—swirling pillars of fire intertwined as they rose toward the sky, a crater in the dirt ten feet in diameter, and twenty men strewn in every direction, their limbs on fire.
Countless more fireballs showered down on the long, snaking line of Tauwin’s men. Arrows rained down on those farther out.
Basen joined his fellow mages in casting wave after wave of fireballs. Beside him, Cleve drew two arrows for every breath and shot them too fast for Basen to keep track.
The army fled in every direction. Some even crossed through the gate and tried to fight off the hordes of warriors led by Terren. Basen watched as their bodies somersaulted back out.
After just a few moments, there were no more men in range for Basen to shoot. They’d all run, leaving a thousand bodies, many still burning.
Cleve shot arrow after arrow, amazing Basen with his impeccable aim as each one found flesh fifty yards out, sixty, seventy, then even a hundred as Cleve continued to shoot with grunts of strain. Soon all of the mages stopped, leaving just a few archers like Cleve to keep going.
But there was one man who did not flee. He walked toward them screaming something, yet he was too far away to hear.
Terren came to stand behind Cleve and Basen, putting his hand on Cleve’s shoulder to stop him.
“It’s Abith,” Cleve argued.
“I realize that. Wait until he gets closer.”
Cleve smiled and took his hand off his string.
Terren turned and gave the order to cease firing, his deep voice as loud as thunder in Basen’s ear. Quiet came over them, save the sizzling bodies and Abith’s distant screams that made him sound like a madman. Basen could only catch one word for every ten yelled at them.
“Fools…death…shit…mothers…idiots.” Abith had his wand in one hand, his sword in the other, waving both manically as he remained the only one walking toward them.
“Wilfre,” Terren called, and the liaison down below ran to get closer. “Take Warrior Sneary and those on the ground to the northern wall. I wouldn’t expect an attack, but ready the horns just in case. I’ll meet you there when I can.”
“All right.”
Finally Abith came close enough to be understood. Amazingly, he was laughing. “So Terren Polken is still alive? This must’ve been your plan the whole time!”
Terren gave no reply.
“Very cunning, however you weren’t thinking ahead. Unlike the last war, there is no one to help the Academy now. You are alone. Kerr’s army is dead. The cities belong to Tauwin. The Slugari have been scared off. Communication with Tenred is impossible. You are surrounded. Soon enough, you’ll face the full force of Tauwin’s army, and I will lead the charge. I’ve killed hundreds of you Kyrro bastards in the last war, but that will be nothing compared to this. You’ve sealed the fates of all your students and instructors, Terren. Celebrate this victory, because—”
“All right, Cleve,” Terren said, ignoring Abith. “Now you can shoot him.”
As Abith continued to yell manically, Cleve drew an arrow. “Good. I can’t stand his voice any longer.”
He shot his arrow at unimaginable speed, Basen instantly losing it in the darkness. Abith flicked his wand and a cube of dense sartious energy formed in front of him. The arrow only made it halfway through, locking into place as if frozen by ice.
Abith spat as he let the energy disperse, the arrow falling harmlessly to the ground. More archers shot, but Abith simply re-gathered the floating sartious energy around him into another cube. A couple arrows struck it but had no hope of reaching flesh.
Abith finally retreated, though there was no hurry in his step as he walked with a sartious wall shielding his back.
Basen had no idea his instructor was a master with sartious energy as well as bastial. It made him fearful to find out what else Abith had kept from him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Basen’s adrenaline subsided soon after the short battle. His hand was burned worse than before, at Worender Training Center. His knuckles continued to feel as if they were on fire.
“You nearly got us killed,” Cleve complained. “It didn’t look as if you had control of that fireball.”
“What else did it look like? I didn’t get a chance to see much.”
“Because you flinched even before it fully formed, you bastard. I thought you were going to shoot it into the parapets.”
“But I didn’t.”
“This time.” Cleve showed no amusement. “You’d better learn how to control your energy before you try that again.”
Alex came between them and put his arms around their shoulders. “Effie and I estimated twenty kills counting her fireballs and my arrows. What about you two?”
“Basen had about twenty with his first damn spell,” Cleve muttered.
“That fireball was yours?”
Realizing the attention he was about to get, Basen decided to pocket the bracelet. It was only warm to the touch now
, easy to stow. He gestured at it quickly before removing it from sight. “Thanks to an akorell stone. Keep it secret for now.”
“Easy when I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Alex grabbed Basen’s arm. “Your hand!”
The skin over his knuckles looked like overcooked meat. “If you think it looks bad, imagine how it feels.”
“You need treatment.”
“And gloves next time,” Cleve added.
“Two good ideas,” Basen agreed.
*****
Basen was given the option of taking a caregelow potion and waking up with his hand healed the next morning. But before he could accept, Alabell and the other healer in the medical building strongly recommended a combination of a lotion and another healing potion, which wouldn’t alter his mind so drastically.
“How does caregelow affect my mind?” he asked.
“It makes you act like a fool,” Alabell answered. “Your roommate will have to stay awake to watch you until you fall asleep so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else. It could take hours.” She stopped and blinked a few times. “Did Terren give you a new roommate yet?”
Sanya put her hands on her hips. “He already chose his own.” She’d come with them to the medical building. Alabell would go home with her to fill the room Annah had vacated.
“Is it someone I might know?” Alabell asked.
“No, she’s a first-year—oh!” Sanya interrupted herself. “Yes, you would know her if you saw her being questioned at the castle. Annah Varra.”
“Yes. How did she come to live with you, Basen?”
He hadn’t seen Annah since she’d dropped Peter with a spell of psyche. It was going to feel strange to go home and find her in Nick’s room.
