A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4) (20 page)

It seemed as if at least some of them planned to stay here. Sanya didn’t need psyche to tell that the Fjallejons disliked the humans coming into their home, but what could they do about it? The small beings had proven time and again that they’d choose suffering over aggression if it meant avoiding conflict.

Sanya spent the rest of that day searching for the akorell metal. If she didn’t find it by the end of the next day, she might need to alter her plans. Ulric and Yeso would return to the castle soon enough to seize it from Tauwin.

Where was that damn akorell metal! Sanya started back to her little alcove after another long day of searching.

She suddenly felt a portal opening not far away. Basen had returned to the mountains. The idiot—thousands of enemies were here! She grabbed her weapon of death and ran down the dark hallways.

*****

Basen worried he’d forgotten the location of the akorell metal in the Fjallejon Mountains, but it turned out he couldn’t forget this place. It was as if the battle here against Abith and his countless men was just yesterday. Pillars of warped stone were blackened or cracked. One had crumbled after Basen blasted it twice with fireballs, and the rubble remained.

As he’d predicted, no one was here. All should be sleeping now.

A few of the Elves who’d come with him had wands, like Basen, though he’d convinced Fatholl to give him a sword as well. They would be fighting together, after all,
before possibly fighting each other
. There had been no reluctance as Fatholl had ordered an Elf to fetch a sword of fine steel for Basen. But he wasn’t foolish enough to take that as a sign of peace to come.

Basen had pocketed the akorell bracelet after being the last one through the portal. The disorienting travel had hit him as hard, if not harder, then the other times he’d gone through. It might have to do with the great distance he’d just covered, from Merejic to Kyrro, or perhaps the many portals were starting to take a toll on his body.

The lead Elf was a woman whose beauty was almost a distraction, especially considering the cut of her shirt showed most of her bosom. It didn’t make sense to Basen until he realized she would be the one taking the role of questioner in his plan.
Psyche and beauty,
it was bound to work so long as the first troops they encountered had any interest in women.

As Basen had expected, the caverns within the mountain were black as pitch. But most of the Elves had come with lamps, their swords in their sheaths for the moment. First they needed to figure out how to get out of here, as even Basen didn’t know, then they could fight.

He stayed close enough to the front to give directions to the Elven woman but far enough so that when they encountered someone, he could hide in the shadows along with the rest of their small army. He had her lead them back the way he’d come with Jackrie, or at least he tried. It didn’t take long for him to feel lost, as the tunnels and caverns looked the same.

Vithos stayed toward the back, and the separation made Basen nervous. But there was a small chance someone might recognize the Elf who’d grown up with the Krepps and realize this group wasn’t with Yeso. They already were taking a huge risk with this plan, so they couldn’t afford more.

So much relied on the Elves who’d gone with the Krepps through the first portal. Fatholl didn’t seem worried about them, though, which allowed Basen to relax a little.

Fatholl barely spoke, his hard features never changing. Basen expected nothing less severe, as Fatholl had the face of an Elf ready to kill his own brother.

The Elves soon sensed the presence of life above them as well as below.

“We need to go up,” Basen said. He remembered encountering only enemies on the way down here, not Fjallejons.
And those disgusting rodents.

After following the inclining tunnels, they finally began to sense people ahead of them. The woman at the front said something in her language and everyone stopped.

“What?” Basen asked.

“Someone is coming toward us,” Fatholl explained. He put out his hand. “They’re going the other way now. It might be a psychic who detected us.” He transitioned into Elvish to converse with the others.

Soon they plodded on. Basen still hadn’t gotten used to being here. Moments ago, he’d been in Merejic. A few days before that, he’d been in Tenred, and before that he’d been at the Academy. A surge of dizziness struck him as each location spun around in his mind. It was as if he was in all three places at once. He reached out to steady himself and grabbed Fatholl’s shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to keep him on his feet.

As he fell to his knees, Fatholl grabbed his arms to hold him up. “What’s the matter with you? Stand up!”

Basen focused on the Fjallejon Mountains, knowing he was there now. However, all he could see was the sand of the Group One training grounds, the shelves of the castle’s kitchen, and the grass of the Elven village, all swirling together fast enough to make him sick if it didn’t stop.

Fatholl squeezed his arm hard. “Focus!”

The dancing shadows from everyone’s moving lamps took over. Basen managed to stand.

“You will be left behind if you can’t keep up,” Fatholl warned.

There was no doubt in Basen’s mind that Fatholl was being completely honest. The plan would go on whether or not Basen could make it. Still reeling from the spell, he held his stomach and pushed onward.

Slowly, his mind began to clear. Whatever connection he’d made to these places, it felt as if they were part of him now, more than just a memory.

Eventually their group happened upon a large cavern where many men slept in makeshift beds. Basen stayed back with the others while the beautiful woman approached the closest one.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Can you help me?”

“What’s wrong—oh.”

Basen could almost feel the moment when the man noticed her beauty. No doubt psyche was involved as well. It was probably keeping the others asleep, as her voice did seem loud enough to wake them.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Yeso.” She had just a trace of an accent.

“He and your Elves are that way. Stay to the right. They aren’t far. How did you get lost?”

“I just arrived with some others, but we’ve already confused our route. I don’t want to show up in front of Yeso without knowing where I am. How do I get to the top of the mountains?”

“The top? Yeso isn’t there.”

“I can ask someone else if I’m bothering you.”

“No, it’s fine. Stay to the left instead and you’ll reach the top. All other routes have been blocked to make it easier.”

“Thank you.”

When he didn’t respond, Basen figured she’d put the man back asleep with psyche. Soon the rest of them were trailing behind the woman as she crept through the cavern. There were far more enemies sleeping here than Basen first realized, at least fifty.

The cavern stretched on for a while, one main route going up the center like a spine. These men had laid down a rug, muffling Basen’s footsteps. Psyche kept all of them asleep as he carefully walked through.

Basen thought he caught a glimpse of light from the exit tunnel ahead of them, but it was gone before he could be sure.
The psychic from earlier,
he thought. Was their surprise already taken from them? No, a psychic would’ve woken these men if he or she wanted Basen and the Elves to be caught. So who else could it be?

They made their way through the long sleeping quarters and soon came to another tunnel. The mountain finally appeared different. Sconces on the wall and lighter air made Basen feel less like he was suffocating as he came closer to the kind of civilization he recognized. The tunnel became wider, allowing up to four people to walk side by side. Vithos suddenly appeared, surprising Basen.

“Shouldn’t you be in the back?” he asked.

“Yeso’s Elves will recognize anyone the same as they recognize me. But I am not the same. My psyche is strongest. I fight well, and they are close now. Be ready.”

Basen drew his sword with his left hand, keeping his wand in his right. The tunnel split, and they kept to the right as instructed. He could already see within the cavern where Yeso’s Elves were sleeping.

Suddenly, Basen’s reflexes told him to run from something tremendously powerful coming toward him from his left. He jumped back and noticed Fatholl’s Elves around him jumping as well as the same sense of danger overwhelmed them. But the only thing there was the stone wall that separated the two tunnels.

“Psychic,” some of the Elves muttered.

Someone was on to them, perhaps now trying to warn them or scare them off? No, it didn’t feel like psyche putting the fear of death in Basen. There was something far more real on the other side of the wall.

They had to ignore it, as Yeso’s Elves ahead were beginning to stir.

“They’re waking,” Basen hissed back down the tunnel.

Fatholl pushed his Elves out of the way to get to the front. “Yeso!” he called.

What in god’s world was he doing? Basen and the few other mages could’ve launched fireballs into the sleeping quarters, but now all were quickly rising and lighting lamps.

“Fatholl?” a distant voice questioned. A string of Elvish followed that roused the waking Elves quicker, all of them grabbing weapons.

Fatholl replied in their language. He sounded reluctant, not aggressive. Fatholl should’ve ignored the urge to speak to his brother before attacking. He was going to get all of them killed.

Now with the cavern as bright as day, Yeso hesitantly came forward wearing a look of confusion and worry. He said something softly in Elvish, as if to himself. Then he repeated it louder as he stood straighter. A third time he repeated it, opening his palms and scowling as if accusing Fatholl of something.

Fatholl’s reluctance dissolved as he pointed a finger in what appeared to be fury. But Yeso began to yell before his brother could say anything.

Suddenly they were screaming at each other. Ulric’s name was the only word Basen recognized. It was strange to hear Elvish at such a loud volume. Their words, usually light as a feather riding the wind, were now more like a flag thrashing from an approaching hurricane.

“What are they saying?” Basen asked Vithos. The Elf had told him he knew some Elvish but not enough to be fluent.

“Bad words for stupid, traitor, for destroyer of life. Yeso blames Fatholl for abandoning the Elves. Fatholl blames Yeso for greed.”

It was quite clear there would be no agreement between these two anytime soon. With Yeso’s much larger and better equipped army looking more and more hostile, Basen had only one choice of what to do.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Neither brother looked ready to dishonor the other with a surprise attack, so Basen had to be the one to do it. Part of Penny’s instruction had involved gathering energy quickly, and he made use of this practice by readying his fireball in the span of a breath. He could kill Yeso right here and avoid relying so much on chance for their plan to work.

Fatholl would be livid, as he’d insisted he be the one to kill his brother. But Fatholl had opened his mouth to start an argument rather than attack with psyche as he’d said he would.

Basen pulled out a fine stream of sartious dust from his wand, moving it into the burning ball of energy. It caught fire as he directed it at Yeso.

The Elf dropped flat on the ground, the fireball exploding amid the Elves behind him. Basen cursed.

Fatholl tried to grab Basen, but he was ready for Fatholl to throw him to the wolves and spun away.
Damn Fatholl
. He’d ruined everything.

Screams rang out on both sides, half of all the Elves dropping like Yeso. Now back a few rows and untouched by psyche, Basen took a moment to launch another fireball. It exploded into a heap of charging Elves. He hoped they were part of the group who’d broken the Academy’s wall a few days ago.

Basen backed away, expecting the rest of his temporary allies to follow. But most were down and seemed unable to get up. He raised his wand for another fireball when he caught sight of Yeso raising his arm. An intense pain akin to being struck by lightning made Basen curl up before he hit the ground. It tore through him with more force, and screaming did nothing to help.

Someone grabbed him by his shirt collar. He could do nothing to focus, nothing to resist the spell or even move.

But whoever had him by his collar dragged him away from the fray. He regained some strength in his legs the farther he went from the psyche spell. Soon it stopped completely, though it had taken a lot out of him as he struggled to stand.

“We run now,” Vithos said, still holding onto Basen.

He found his footing and hurried toward what now would be the front of their army. He couldn’t take another spell like that, and frankly he cared just as little about Fatholl’s Elves as they did about him.

Damn, Fatholl has to live
, Basen grudgingly reminded himself. He went back to find the Elf on his knees, his outstretched hand aimed at nearly a mirror image of himself. Both he and Yeso groaned in pain as Elves crawled around them to get to each other. No one could get up or even get their hands around a bow or wand. Fresh to the scene, Basen hadn’t yet been targeted and hurried to gather more energy.