by Narro, B. T.
“I’m not very skilled at it myself,” Annah said to his surprise.
“I thought you were one of the strongest psychics in the Academy.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at resistance. I can win duels because I can hurt other psychics better than they can hurt me, but I can’t defend myself very well.”
“Then we both need to learn how to resist psyche.”
She nodded.
“Hopefully Cleve knows how,” Basen said. “He seems to know most things.”
By the time they arrived at the corner of the campus, the rest of their group was huddled in a small cluster, Peter and Cleve towering over Alabell and Jackrie. Each man had a bow strapped to his back, though they were just shadows in the night. It was too dark for Basen to recognize who was who until he reached the group and Peter put himself right in front of Basen.
“Admit you were lucky to even land a strike,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Calm down,” Basen said, “or we’ll never get through the Fjallejon Mountains without being heard.”
He tried to walk around Peter, but the large warrior moved with him. “Admit you were lucky, and stop lying to people about what really happened. You won nothing. You could never beat me in a sword fight. Say it.”
“Peter,” Jackrie called out. “That’s enough.”
Peter walked back over to Cleve and stood with his arms folded, glaring at Basen.
Basen tried to ignore him as he greeted Alabell with a hug. “How’s your leg?” she asked.
“Perfect,” he said. There wasn’t even a scar where Sanya had stabbed him. “Though I hope to never have to take caregelow again.” He was still embarrassed about taking Alabell’s face and telling her how beautiful she was.
“I did bring some,” she warned him. “But I don’t expect it will be needed.”
That meant at least one person was optimistic about reaching Tenred.
Basen chatted with Alabell and Annah for a while as they waited for the signal from a wall guard. Peter wouldn’t stop staring, but Basen ignored him completely.
After some time, he decided to take the opportunity to speak to Jackrie. He’d seen her a few times in the dining hall, eating with the other instructors, but he’d never had the chance to speak with her since she’d given him the certificate to join the Academy.
“Thank you for accepting me,” he said and shook her hand. “I’ve wanted to say that for a while.”
He couldn’t see her face very well, just that she wore a smile. “It wasn’t as if I had a choice. You outperformed everyone, and from what I hear, you continue to do so. I’m happy to have you with us. I hope I can see one of those portals soon enough.”
“Mage Jackrie,” the wall guard called from above. “There’s no one watching right now.”
“Hurry everyone.”
They ran to the nearest ramp and ascended to the wall. The mage instructor was nimble, but this came as no surprise, for she looked young and spry, probably not yet thirty. Jackrie had tied her hair back and wore a long, black cloak that billowed behind her.
When they reached the corner of the wall, the guard threw down a rope and tied the other end to the parapets. “Still clear, Mage Jackrie,” he said, giving the rope a few hard yanks. “It’s sturdy.”
“Everyone follow quickly,” Jackrie said as she climbed over the wall and grabbed the rope.
It wasn’t that far of a drop, so the rope was only necessary for a few feet. Soon everyone was outside the Academy. The wall guard pulled up the rope. No way back now.
“Hurry,” Jackie said and broke into a full sprint.
There weren’t many trees for cover, but they ran beneath the few in their path. Then they cut across the land. To their left sat the camp of one of Tauwin’s battalions, the Fjallejon Pathway to their right. The camp was strategically placed five miles west of the Academy, just far enough so that Terren had no hope of attacking and retreating back to the Academy before the rest of Tauwin’s army came.
They took no breaks until they made it to the base of the mountains. Alabell drew her water pouch, but Jackrie motioned for her not to drink.
“Only if you really need it,” Jackrie said. “Because it needs to last.”
Alabell thought for a moment, then put it back in her bag.
“Take a moment to rest,” Jackie instructed them. “If anything surprises us, just listen to my orders. Do not run unless I say so.” She sounded like a different woman than the one who’d judged Basen in the training center, now strict and unforgiving, as if ready to snap if anyone disobeyed her. “None of their watchers atop the mountain should be able to see us until we’re in the pathway, but there are two men guarding it who we need to kill silently. Come.”
God’s mercy, this escalated quickly. Basen wasn’t sure he was ready to murder—kill, he reminded himself, not murder. He felt like there was a difference between the two…but the more he thought about it the less they seemed like separate things. He stopped himself from thinking about it further. It was what he had to do.
Most of them were still huffing for breath as they followed Jackrie. They climbed over broken boulders, then squeezed through tiny tunnels made by slabs of rock stuck against the mountain.
It was well known that there was no way to climb to the top of the Fjallejon Mountains from the south, meaning the pathway between the mountains was the only way through. Therefore, it didn’t seem likely that only two men would be guarding it. Basen tried to trust that Jackrie knew best. She was following Terren’s orders, after all, and he seemed to know the best course of action in most circumstances.
Peter came up and was suddenly right on Basen’s rear. “Are you going to admit it?” the warrior whispered.
“If it’ll shut you up, I’ll admit anything. What do you want to hear?”
“You stand no chance against me.”
“Fine. You’re right.”
“So stop telling people you won.”
“I told no one.”
Jackie shushed them from the front of their loosely formed line.
“You lie.” Peter’s whisper was like a snake ready to strike. “It’s ridiculous that anyone would believe a mage like you could stand up to a third-year warrior of the Academy in a sword fight. Especially when that warrior is me.”
Basen stopped and faced him. “I’ll be fighting beside you if we’re caught, so you’d better learn to trust me.”
“You won’t be beside me. You’ll stay back and use your pathetic wand, and you’d better not shoot Cleve or me.”
Basen flipped back his cloak to show Peter the sheath holding his sword. There was just enough light from the moon for Basen to see the shock in Peter’s eyes.
“Why did you bring that? Idiot.”
“If they’re too close for fireballs, I’ll be fighting beside you, like I said.”
“You will not! You’re going to get us killed.”
“Peter and Basen!” Jackrie whispered sharply. “Hurry up.”
“Listen to me and stay out of the way. I know what I’m talking about. I was the only one to realize that Sanya should never have been here. Look what happened because you and the other idiots defended her. Now one of our best warriors is dead.” Peter shoved Basen as he walked by.
Overwhelmed by aggression, Basen jumped on Peter’s back and pulled the big man down to the ground. He wanted to hurt Peter and didn’t think to question it as he punched him square in the forehead.
It seemed to do nothing to the big man as Peter threw Basen off. They both hopped up and started swinging. It was too dark for calculation. Basen felt his fists connect in satisfaction, though he was struck many times as well.
Suddenly he was on the ground with his limbs pinned. The pain of his injuries sapped his strength, and he instantly gave in. Alabell and Jackrie were on top of him, their knees and hands pressing hard against him. He heard Peter yell for Cleve to get off him.
“Quiet, you fool!” Cleve scolded.
“He attacked me from behind,” Peter said, playing the victim.
“Everyone shut up!” Jackrie whispered.
They fell silent. Jackrie stood and looked around for signs they’d been discovered. After a moment, she let out a sigh.
“Peter, it’s not too late for me to get another archer,” she warned. “But there is no other portal-making mage. Will you and Basen find some way of trusting each other, or should I replace you?”
“We’ll work it out,” Peter muttered.
“Annah, is he being truthful?”
“Yes.”
When Jackrie didn’t question Basen as she started along the edge of the mountain again, he felt some guilt. She must’ve assumed the quick bout was all Peter’s fault, but Basen was really the one who’d initiated it.
However, as he remembered Peter’s accusation about Sanya, he forgot all about his guilt. In any other situation, he wouldn’t have taken Peter’s bait to fight, but fury burned deep within him whenever he thought of Sanya, and he’d lost control. Now I can understand why Effie was casting every fireball with twice the bastial energy needed to kill a man. She has the same aggression within her.
“I’m sorry,” he told Peter.
“I’m just glad you’re not a coward.”
That made Basen chuckle.
The rest of the trip along the edge of the Fjallejon Mountains was quiet save when they kicked unseen rocks that skidded across the ground. Soon they came to the only entrance between the mountains, a narrow split created by a river that had dried up long before humans came to Kyrro.
An archer and a mage stood guard. Jackrie pushed Basen and the rest of the group behind cover.
“Cleve, shoot the mage first and then the archer. Peter, be ready in case he misses.”
“I don’t miss.”
“In case they move,” Jackrie corrected herself.
Cleve didn’t object as he notched an arrow. There was no doubt in Basen’s mind that Cleve had killed enough men for this task not to affect him. Basen hadn’t, and he didn’t know how he might react if he needed to.
“Go,” Jackrie told the two warriors.
Cleve hurried out with Peter close behind him.
“Follow,” Jackrie told the rest of them.
Their group hustled around the leg of the mountain as Cleve shot his first arrow. It impaled the enemy mage in the chest as he grunted and stumbled backward. The archer uttered a sound of shock before he was struck next.
Cleve shot a third arrow. It darted into the stomach of the mage just as he tried to shout, resulting in a strained groan. Peter shot his first arrow, and it sailed into the chest of the falling enemy archer.
Both men gurgled as they squirmed, but the sound wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. Cleve and Peter sprinted over, drew their daggers, and ended the men’s lives, fortunately before Basen could get there.
He stood over their bloody corpses and froze. When Nick and Alex had died, Basen had fallen into shock, but this felt entirely different. He was still fully here, his mind sharp, his skin prickling from the cold wind. No emotions came.
One man had a trumpet in his hand that Basen hadn’t noticed earlier. He stepped over it to follow Jackrie into the narrow pathway.
The ground was sunken at its center, giving the path the shape of a bowl. It twisted as it dissected the Fjallejon Mountains, making it impossible for Basen to see far ahead.
As they walked farther in, he used his mind to feel for areas where enough bastial energy had been gathered in the past to make a portal. He felt nothing.
They walked for half an hour, and still Basen felt nothing. The Fjallejon Pathway was miles long, so it could be morning by the time they emerged. But what he couldn’t get out of his mind was that if they were caught, there was nowhere to run except back the way they’d come.
Jackrie led them through quickly, only slowing when they came to a turn. She glanced up every few steps to ensure no one was looking down at them. The mountains were tall, but not tall enough to prevent archers or mages from shooting them before they could run out of range.
Basen soon began to think there were no guards. Terren must’ve been right that their enemies would never expect them to go through the mountains.
“Any place you can make a portal so far?” Jackrie asked him.
“Not yet.”
“Let me know if you sense one.”
Farther in, the mountains were still connected above the pathway, forming tunnels that were as black as pitch. Jackrie made light with her wand when the longer tunnels required it.
She stopped in the middle of one and turned her wand toward the wall on her left. “Terren told me there’s a hidden passageway that leads to the top of the mountain,” she whispered. “The entrance is extremely difficult to distinguish because it looks like any other crack. Help me find it.”
“We’re going inside?” Annah asked in a shrill voice full of fear.
Jackrie shushed her. “Yes, but we’ll return to this tunnel and continue through the Fjallejon Pathway once Basen finds a place where he can create a portal. There’s likely to be one atop this mountain because of the battle that occurred here.”
Basen had figured he’d known everything there was to know about these mountains, but never had he heard anything about a passageway from the Fjallejon Pathway to the mountain peaks. In fact, it was a common belief that there was no way of reaching one from the other.
He wondered about this hidden passageway as he shined light upon the walls and searched for cracks large enough to fit in. He figured humans had built it or commanded Fjallejons to build it, for the Fjallejons themselves had no reason to go down to the pathway. When men and women first came to Ovira, they began building a civilization for themselves in Kyrro. As they explored the surrounding land, they eventually came to the mountains where the Fjallejons had made their home thousands of years ago. Because the settlers had little interest in the mountains, a peace agreement was quickly reached.
Over the years, the Fjallejons witnessed many changes of leadership in Kyrro, from the first Takary to what now hopefully would be the last Takary to ever take the crown.
When Tenred was formed north of the Fjallejon Mountains, the peace between Kyrro and the Fjallejons remained but with an addendum that the Fjallejons would watch the pathway through the mountains and report any activity to the king of Kyrro. The Fjallejons agreed but only in exchange for protection, in case soldiers from Tenred tried to take the mountains.
“What do the Fjallejons know of the recent takeover?” Basen asked Jackrie.
“Whatever Tauwin’s men told them, which was probably whatever was most likely to get the Fjallejons to allow them to station men on and in the mountain without resistance. Must’ve been lies.”
Cleve shushed them. He had taken to watching the exit of their tunnel while Peter stayed at the entrance. “People are coming,” he whispered.
“How many?” Jackrie asked.
“I don’t know. Annah, come.”
She scurried over, then extended her hand. “A lot,” she whispered back, her voice quivering. “Twenty or more.”
“I found it!” Alabell exclaimed.
Cleve and Annah ran over to her as Jackrie called for Peter. Their entire party met at the entrance to the passageway, which Basen saw was hidden by a lopsided boulder sticking out from the wall of the tunnel.
“Basen, go first,” Jackrie said. “Use your light. I’ll be last.”
He had to crawl to fit in the entrance, then immediately needed to squeeze around a sharp turn. Soon it opened enough for his shoulders to straighten. There became more space between the ceiling and the ground as he went, allowing him to go from his knees to his feet. He still had to crouch, however, and it seemed that he would have to remain that way as he came to a stairway.
Illuminating it from the light of his wand gave him a quick shiver. It curved as it rose, allowing complete darkness to lurk around the bend and in crevices made b
y its uneven walls. Cobwebs lined the ceiling, and the stone steps were caked with dust.
There was only room for one at a time. He turned back and offered his hand to Alabell, who clasped it firmly while reaching back to grab Annah’s hand.
“Move quickly,” Jackrie called from behind them.
Basen steadily climbed the stairs, hoping there was nothing waiting to surprise him around each turn.
“Faster,” Jackrie urged, her voice echoing past him. Faster…faster. “They must’ve seen the bodies, and now they’re looking for us.”
Looking for us…looking for us.
He began to run up two stairs at a time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It dawned on Effie that no one had spoken for an hour or maybe more. It was difficult to judge the time while she constantly exerted effort to direct bastial energy through her wand for light. Raywhite Forest had always been eerie at night, yet this was the first time she’d been forced to walk through it.
Reela took her hand, possibly sensing her fear. “There’s no one around us, Eff.”
“Good.”
“Keep quiet,” Liaison Wilfre hissed.
Reela sighed.
Effie wondered why Tauwin didn’t have his soldiers attack the Academy. She wanted to believe it was because thousands of her allies were in Trentyre, ready to take back Oakshen or the capital as soon as Tauwin moved his men, but that didn’t seem likely. Steffen guessed Tauwin was waiting for something, and Effie knew her smart friend to often be right about matters like this. She was thankful that he was there with her and Reela. He’d gotten good with the bow in the last year, though Effie hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.
It seemed wrong to think of their enemies as Tauwin’s men. He was just about the same age as she was, and from what she’d learned from Alabell, Tauwin didn’t seem like the kind of man to lead an army. His feet would never fill Terren’s shoes.
It was about ten miles to Trentyre from the Academy, so there was no time for rest if they were to make it there before daylight. But during the second hour, Effie found it difficult to keep their path lit.
“Wilfre, can—”
