Bastial Energy (40 page)

Still, he was worried. He felt it low in his stomach, heavy like a brick—not because he was worried about himself but because he didn’t want to injure others. Cleve gave the sword a few good swings as he thought about what he should do. The sword was a high-quality weapon. But his longbow around his back was bound to slide down his arm the moment he swung his sword.

He glanced around for a place to hide his precious bow, then noticed the room on the other side of the stairway. It was no more than a narrow entranceway to a portcullis that Cleve could only assume separated the rest of the castle from the dungeons below.
That may be where I end up,
he couldn’t help but think as he ran toward it.

Outside, the locked metal grille that led underground was a jug like those filled with boiling water that were thrown at his party, but this one held quarterstaffs. The tops of the melee weapons rested against the nearby wall. With time to spare, he gladly traded his sword for the blunt weapon and stored his longbow there as well. Rek was saying something to the group, but Cleve was too far away to hear.

Back near the entrance to the castle, Rek’s valiant warriors and mages were keeping their feet steady with weapons drawn. All of Hem’s men had drawn their weapons as well and now were turning onto the last stairway.

Cleve found a place beside Rek in the front.

“Nice work with the bow earlier,” Rek told him. “I’ll admit it was impressive, but get ready because I’m about to top it with my own trick.”

At that, Cleve decided to take two steps back. Whatever Rek had planned, it felt safer being behind him.

Chapter 43: Heavy Rain

CLEVE

There must have been at least thirty warriors behind Hem descending the last stairway toward them, close enough now that Cleve could count the rats crawling on them if he had the time. It looked to be more than two and less than five per guard, most protruding from the tops of the warriors’ chest pieces, poking their little heads out nervously. A few of the more squeamish men were still twitching as they approached, digging rats out of their sleeves and shaking their hips.

Rek was only a few seconds away from the tips of their swords when he finally raised his arm at them and released a deep grunt. All at once the King’s men cried out in anguish. Their weapons and bodies fell, rolling over one another in a loud mess. No less than fifty rats exploded from the puddle of steel and flesh, squeaking in terror. Some must have been catapulted, for they flew through the air, flipping at dizzying speeds, their bodies and tails stretched from the force as they soared.

Hem lifted his head to find himself staring down Rek’s dagger. “Don’t get up,” the Elf told him, kicking away the sword nearby. “No one needs to be hurt.”

Too late for that,
Cleve thought, glancing over the dismayed warriors. He knew what the pain from the psychic spell was like, as well as being covered in rats. The thought of both combined made him empathetic. Still, he readied the quarterstaff, knowing this wasn’t over.

Rats were poking their heads from between crevices of steel and pulling themselves out with their tiny front legs. Once atop their carriers, they leapt back to the stairs to find a different host on another floor.

Warriors were gingerly picking themselves up and nursing their wounds. Some cleared the stairs, admitting defeat, while others stayed on the ground grunting. Much of their armor was stained with blood, yet based on the number of crushed rat bodies Cleve spotted, he figured all of it was rodent, not man.

“Rek, I can’t disobey an order,” Hem said as he strained his neck to look the Elf in the eye. “I can’t permit you to see his majesty without his approval. You know that.” Hem’s tone was dark, and a looming silence followed.

There’s more than a little history between these two
.

Soon, Rek was nodding his head sadly. “I know,” he nearly whispered, switching his hold on the dagger. “But he tried to have me killed. I can’t leave until I speak with him or he won’t stop until I’m dead.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t make me do this, old friend.” Rek held the dagger close to Hem’s scalp.

“Even if you kill me, you won’t ever see the King.”

“Where is he?”

Hem covered his ears. “You’re not going to get that information from me.” He got to his feet for a breath before Rek aimed a hand at him for another psychic spell. Hem dropped once more, shivering in pain.

“There is no other end to this. The King and I will speak, and then I will be fighting alongside you, not against you.” Rek put the knife back on his belt. “Hem, where is he?” He sounded desperate.

“The safety room, along with many women, children, and others who serve in other ways than fighting. Hundreds of mages and warriors stand in between. Not even all the rats in Kyrro could get you past them. Just surrender now to us.” Hem began to stand once again. A few others already on their feet drew their weapons.

Cleve steadied his hands against the smooth wood of his quarterstaff, stepping toward the daring men. His eyes found someone hidden among the pile who was pulling a throwing knife from his belt. As he cocked his arm, Cleve leapt through clusters of chain mail and steel and used the quarterstaff to smack the knife from the man’s hand. Before he had time to think, he noticed a sword slicing at him from the side. He ducked under it and swept the legs of his attacker with the hard wood of his weapon.

His heart jumped as he felt his balance slipping. Those nearby who were still on the ground had ahold of his ankles. One drew a dagger, so Cleve slammed the quarterstaff into the man’s wrist.

“Discard your weapons and get back down!” Rek shouted. Then Cleve saw that many had risen with their swords drawn, all with a bloodthirsty look in their eyes.

They obeyed, slowly lowering themselves to the ground and letting their weapons fall. Yet their eyes remained harsh and steady.

Hem warned Rek, “This is about to get much worse for you and your
helpers
. Let me detain you now before I can’t anymore.”

“Or you can go back up there and tell the warriors and mages to let me pass,” Rek pleaded. “This can all be—”

Hem interrupted by sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling sharply. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you convince me of anything. It’s time for this to end.”

Cleve heard a storm of boots coming from somewhere above them. The sound of a door being thrown open followed, and the feet carrying each pair of boots were then somewhere within the great room, echoing off every wall.

Hem jumped to his feet. Privy to his plan, the other warriors on the first floor did the same and ran back up the stairs with frantic quickness. They looked to be fleeing from something.

A gust of rats suddenly burst through the air on the fifth floor, followed by another burst, then another. Many flew over the banister, raining down on Cleve and his party. They covered their faces with their arms or shields, for there was no chance to dodge all the vermin. Many of the rats died against the stone floor, their heads and bodies cracking open, but some survived to hobble toward a room or a crevice in the wall.

The screech that came from the rats tumbling through the air was that of a hundred rusty reels being wound. Cleve soon deciphered the cause of the flying rats when he saw the shoulders of mages nearing the banister.
Bastial wind. Mages are coming and blowing away any rats in their path with hot Bastial Energy.

The King’s mages each found a spot along the banister that circled almost completely around. The only gap was directly above Rek and his party, as they stood just inside the entrance with the open ironbark door behind them. The mages were mostly women, but all wore red and carried a staff—but no wands—from what Cleve could see.
They care not for mobility, just power,
he realized when he noticed their weapons
.
He glanced at Rek. The Elf whipped down his hood to get a better look.

“Are they in range?” Cleve asked optimistically.

“No,” Rek answered.

“Then we should take cover.” Cleve found his tone to be surprisingly calm. Some part of him had grown to believe nothing would stop them, but he was beginning to realize that wasn’t the case.

The mages aimed their staffs over the banister.

“Out! Now!” Rek shouted.

Cleve and Rek ran toward the door, shoving their comrades outside as well. Cleve heard the unmistakable sound of burning energy hissing toward him as he fled.

He felt the rough kiss of fire on his back and calves as they re-entered the cool, black night. They darted around the doorway just as a stream of fire shot out after them. The yellow flames curled and spewed from the mouth of the castle with a sizzling belch. Cleve was still too close—the heat was still too much. On reflex, he dove away from it and landed on top of three other people ahead of him.

Expecting hard steel against his chest, he was shocked by the feeling of cloth and soft flesh underneath him.

“Anyone hurt?” Cleve heard Rek asking.

Cleve pulled his head up to find his tongue had latched onto a head of blonde hair. He yanked the hairs from his mouth and stood up quickly. He wasn’t a light man and wanted to remove the burden of his weight from whoever was below him. With a slight breath of relief, he found the hair he had chewed on belonged to the female mage. She grunted softly.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be fine.” She dusted off her robe. “I’m not so sure about the person on the bottom, though.”

With her pulled from the pile, a warrior in steel was next to rise, but below him was the old guard Colimp. He was supine with his arms and legs sprawled. A creaking moan leaked from his gaping mouth, “Aaaaooooo.”

Cleve lent him a hand.
I’ve been on top of him more today than I have any woman
, Cleve thought. Colimp was slow to rise, even with Cleve lifting most of his weight.

“Rek! Rek! Where are you?” someone was calling from the balcony above the Elf. Cleve recognized the gray hair and concerned expression right away. Rek moved farther from the castle wall so he could look at Councilman Kerr. Relief washed over Kerr’s face when he saw Rek. “Are any of you injured?”

“No,” Rek answered.

“Rek, this is madness. You can’t force your way into the castle, and you’ve made such a mess with all these rats. We’ve even got some injuries by your doing.” His tone was that of a father to a child.

“This is as much your mess as it is mine. How could you allow the King to order my death?”

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Kerr said. “When I saw that to be impossible, I helped arrange for Cleve to be the chosen marksman. I knew he could never go through with it and that both of you would be back to work this out with the King like gentlemen.”

How could he possibly know that, when I didn’t even know if I would go through with it?

“Although, I didn’t think you would attack the castle, and with rats!” The councilman looked ready to pull his hair out.

“Well we’re here, and no one’s been killed yet,” Rek said, somewhat mockingly.

“You sure picked a terrible time for this. Do you know who’s visiting? Jessend Takary from Goldram! Cleve nearly put an arrow through her. Could you imagine what that would’ve caused!”

That woman about to shoot at us is a Takary?
“I aimed for her weapon, and I hit it,” Cleve said defensively.

“Another inch and we would have been looking at war with Goldram as well as Tenred,” Kerr said.

“Let’s focus on the war at hand!” Rek said with startling anger. “I’m giving King Welson one last chance to let me fight for Kyrro. It shouldn’t be this hard when all I want to do is help him.”

Kerr nodded, his eyes closed. “Yes I understand. I have convinced his majesty to speak with you to end this savagery.” His eyes popped back open, wider than before. “But you must call back the rats. You know how I hate rats.”

Rek smiled and relief came over his face. He let out a long breath of relief. “Of course, Councilman Kerr, if I could’ve used another creature I would have, but rats are what we’ve got. You’ve sent the mages away?”

“I have. You have no plans of hurting your brother, King Welson, right?”

Rek rolled his eyes. “My brother…not unless he hurts me first.”

Kerr sighed. “The worst quarrels are always between loved ones.”

“Or caused by them,” Rek answered with a tight mouth.

“I’ll be down to escort you and Cleve in a moment.”

Rek thanked those around him with a handshake before calling Cleve over with a wave. Cleve nodded and followed. They met privately some distance from the entrance.

“What’s wrong?” Cleve asked.

Rek held his chin. Cleve could almost hear the Elf’s mind at work.

“Welson had no need to agree to a meeting. He must know there was no way past his mages without an army. I don’t know what he’s planning, but it takes weeks, sometimes years for his opinions to change without psyche.”

“You think he’s still going to have us killed?” Cleve asked.