A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4) (8 page)

“Ulric held meetings with Elves openly, one of them being Fatholl, who later became known to everyone in Greenedge. Fatholl’s story has been told many times in many different ways, but the facts bear out only a few absolute truths. He was born in Ovira and was forced to come to Greenedge to escape death. He had learned some psyche before arriving and was therefore barred from Meritar, even though he was just a boy. He then spent years training with other Elves who’d been exiled and continued his attempt to return to Meritar. They were never allowed back in the territory, but they did manage to recruit many other Elves with a clear message: It was up to them to save Greenedge because the continent was slowly being taken over by desmarls, and humans were doing nothing about it.”

Basen had read a little about these creatures as he’d skimmed through earlier chapters. They were monstrous beasts thought nearly impossible to kill, and they were the reason all living creatures migrated toward the center of the continent. Instead of banding together to fight them, humans had been fighting each other for space instead.

“Miners in the bastial steel crater reported hearing arguing during the meeting between Ulric and Fatholl. They sounded in disagreement about how to use their power and were never seen meeting again. But one of the Elves who’d been part of Fatholl’s group did return later, alone. This Elf, known as Yeso and similar enough in appearance to Fatholl to possibly be related, began to meet frequently with Ulric near enough to the crater for many to see.”

As Basen read further, he came across nothing else about Ulric or Yeso.

“No, don’t stop there,” he said as if the author could hear him.

The next pages transitioned into the beginning of the most recent war in Greenedge, during which Fatholl took complete control. Basen hurried through each page in search of more information, but whatever Ulric and Yeso were doing during this time, it apparently wasn’t worthy enough for the author to mention.

Basen had to stop himself a number of times as he read what Fatholl had done, shock forcing him to make sure he’d read the words correctly. By the time he got to the end, he was beginning to think Fatholl was the wrong Elf to try to manipulate. Basen had never heard of anyone like him—the sacrifices he’d made, the sacrifices he’d
forced
other people to make. He’d taken the weight of the world on his shoulders and used it to justify the deaths of countless people.

Basen had every reason to be afraid. Fatholl would use him and discard him without care.

Basen came to the end of the book slightly disappointed in how little had been written about Ulric and Yeso, but he believed he’d learned just enough about the two of them and Fatholl to conclude he was right in his original guess. Fatholl and Yeso didn’t work together in Greenedge because they didn’t agree on how to use their power.
Yeso clearly agrees with Ulric’s choice of war, while Fatholl never has.

Basen closed the book and thought for a while.

Eventually he whispered, “Yes, exactly. Yes! That’s it.”

He stood and made a fist in victory. His plan was set. Now it was just a matter of—g
od’s mercy, what time is it?
People were migrating toward the dining hall, but it couldn’t be lunch hours already, could it? He leaned over the stone barrier to attempt to read the clock above him, but he couldn’t get a good look without risking falling out. He grabbed the book and rushed down the stairs.
Of course I’m in the one place on campus where I can’t see the time.

He came all the way down and looked up, then cursed. It had been two hours! He muttered curses all the way back to Jack’s office, then inwardly raged when the door was closed and locked. He knocked, but nobody answered.

He was thankful for his stamina, because it was a long run to the dining hall. Jack was difficult to find, as he did not sit with other instructors this day, but Basen finally located him in a corner, sitting at the end of one of the long tables. He had papers with him, and the students who shared his table looked to be giving him his space.

“I’m sorry,” Basen said as he put the heavy book down on the only clear spot on the table within Jack’s reach. “I lost track of time.”

“I thought you might,” Jack said as he swept the book to him, pushing all the papers to the side. “Which is why I gave you only an hour when you really had two. I just wanted it back before lunch hours were over so I can read after.” He went back to writing.

Sneaky.
“Well, you won’t find anything useful about Yeso or Ulric,” Basen whispered as he left quickly, hoping Jack wouldn’t hear until it was too late. Otherwise, the master chemist would stop Basen from leaving, and there wasn’t time for further delay. He had people to gather.

“Basen!”

Now many tables away, he turned.

Jack stood to say something but then simply nodded, as if he understood Basen would be leaving no matter what.

On his way to Jack’s table, Basen had noticed Crea Hiller sitting with Abith. Now they shared hushed words while glancing about suspiciously. They stopped as Basen approached.

“We need to speak,” he told Crea.

Crea was the one who’d sent Juliana to Tenred’s prison, where she remained.

Rescuing her was the first part of his plan.

“We should,” Crea agreed. “Meet me at house number three hundred fifteen as soon as lunch hours are over.”

Three hundred fifteen
. He refrained from smirking until he turned around.
Terren put her in a student house.
He supposed it made sense, as it was probably the only vacant place for her. Still, it couldn’t have been easy to convince her to accept it.
I wonder where Abith is staying.
Basen looked back over his shoulder. Crea was considerably older, but was there something romantic there? Basen didn’t get that impression, and he was usually quite good at picking up on things like that. Their relationship was probably purely political.
Although Abith might not need her once she loses control over the troops from Tenred.

Basen crafted the last parts of his plan as he waited in line for food. But a familiar face staring at him interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over to meet the eyes of the man he remembered from his time at the workhouse. The man did not look away, only worsened his scowl.

What in god’s world is wrong with him?
Basen scowled right back. The man was Basen’s father’s age, yet much less imposing than Henry. His expression was that of anger, not calculation or threat. It only served to prove what Basen already thought about him from their brief encounters in the workhouse. He was angry, as if he blamed the world for his unhappiness. He’d insult anyone who bothered him, so Basen and Henry had kept their distance.

This man had attempted to kill one of the frightened women trying to leave the Academy yesterday.
If he still holds a grudge because I stopped him—I can’t worry about it now.

Basen got his food and noticed a small space beside Effie at a nearly full table. He stood behind the bench where he hoped to squeeze in.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Basen! Where were you?”

“Move over and I’ll tell you.”

She scooted to give him room. Every table was crowded like this, thanks to all the new people at the Academy. After the losses the school had suffered, however, a packed dining hall was a good problem to have.

Before he could say a word to Effie, Penny came to stand on the other side of the table.

“Where the bastial hell were you during battle training!”

The entire table of at least a dozen people stopped eating to stare.

“It’ll require a long explanation, Mage Penny,” he said apologetically. “Instead, let me assure you it’s extremely important to this war.”

His words did nothing to soften her harsh look. “I don’t care how important you think it is—no matter what
you’re doing! If you miss training again, I will put you in a lower group. I’m thinking at least ten, given your reckless behavior. You can’t keep missing training and then expect to know what to do during battle. The Group One mages have to be the most coordinated. You’ll get yourself or others killed.”

He sympathized with Penny, he really did. But that didn’t sway him from his purpose. “I’m sorry. I need to do this.”

Her mouth dropped open in horror. “You’re going to miss more. On
purpose
?”

He nodded regretfully. “I’ll accept the consequences, whatever they are.”

She closed her mouth, her jaw muscles bulging. He feared she would humiliate him more before storming off, but instead, she just shook her head and said, “Are you going to be careful?”

The question surprised him too much for him to answer right away. Would he? “Careful” would be to do exactly as Fatholl asked or to stay put and hope he’d be protected here. Instead, he planned not only to poke the beehive but to persuade the queen bee to leave it.

He thought for a moment, unwilling to lie to Penny. As their audience stared and waited, he could only smile apologetically and shrug.

“I’m sorry, Penny. I don’t want to lie to you. But I’m doing what I believe to be right.”

Penny shook her head. “It’s not just my job here to teach students how to improve. I’m to teach them how to stay alive. You’re making this very difficult.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

“Bastial hell, Basen,” Effie remarked, then chuckled as she spoke with heavy sarcasm, “She’s not very happy with you.”

He pinned her with a serious look, knowing what he was about to say would otherwise be taken as a joke.

“She’s not going to be very happy with you, either.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Basen heard footsteps approaching his door. He was almost done packing for his trip—there wasn’t much to take—and opened the door before his father had a chance to knock. He smiled as he hugged Henry, who gave him a firm pat on the back, then leaned back for a good look at his face.

Basen must look tired, possibly even upset. Henry finally had made time for him, but now Basen had to leave.

“How are you able to resist psyche?” he asked, needing to know in case he might have to do so himself. And very soon.

“Training and practice, Basen. Repetition. You’ll learn soon. I’ll make sure Terren selects you as one of the many to get lessons.”

I won’t be here.
Henry continued before Basen could reply. “I’m sending someone to get Juliana out of prison and bring her to the Academy.”

Basen had feared two things about telling his father of her whereabouts. One was that Henry would kill Crea for what she’d done to his wife. The other was that he’d come to a hasty decision about how to free her.

“Whoever you’re sending,” Basen said, “they won’t make it to Tenred. The Fjallejon Mountains have been taken.”

“He will go around.”

He. Just one man.
Basen had been taught from an early age never to speak back to his father, but everything had changed during their time in the workhouse. Through the pain of Juliana’s supposed betrayal and the endless hard work he and his father had endured, Basen had earned Henry’s mutual respect.

But it appeared that another shift had happened since then. He could see his father now wearing the same stoic look he used to in the castle, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“If he goes far enough around the mountains so he’s not seen,” Basen said, “it could take a week to reach Mother.”

“One week is not long,” Henry replied. “Plus another week to return.”

“Unless she’s frail from her time in that cage and must travel slowly.”

“I’ve thought of that, but this is the only option.”

“How is this man supposed to get Mother out of prison?”

“He has a signed decree from Crea Hiller that Juliana is to be released.”

Now this was embarrassing. Basen had never caught his father lying before and didn’t know what to say. He’d just spoken to Crea. The awkward conversation had been short but fruitful. Basen really did have a signed decree from Crea, while his father probably had a forgery.

Basen had asked Crea if his father had spoken with her yet, and she’d protested, “You should’ve waited for me to tell him myself.”

“He won’t retaliate,” Basen had assured her, though he wasn’t confident it was true.

“I’m not worried about that! I had a good reason behind that difficult choice.”

Yes you are, and no you didn’t.
“I came here for a signed document from you ordering my mother’s release. Let’s just get on with this and not speak more about it, all right?”

Crea had looked confused for a moment, then surprised. She’d clearly expected him to ask more of her, probably for her to go to Tenred and retrieve Juliana. It would’ve been more than fair for Basen or his father to ask, but that didn’t mean Crea would do it.

“All right,” she’d agreed.

Basen had folded his arms and waited.

Crea had dragged a blank scroll in front of her, dipped her quill in the inkwell and begun to write as Basen waited near the open door.