Bastial Energy (2 page)

He ignored Steffen’s shouts, hoping they were the last words he’d ever hear him speak, wishing this was just the delirious ranting of a mad chemist.

Chapter 2: Others

CLEVE

Cleve actually had been excited about his admission to the Academy, until meeting Steffen. He’d lived the last seven years on campus, but only as his uncle’s adopted son, never as a student. He hadn’t been able to apply until this year, when he’d reached seventeen.

Living with Terren was never ideal, but being his only remaining family member, Cleve figured there were worse places he could’ve ended up. His uncle was generally considerate and tended to give a good reason when he couldn’t be. But to sign up Cleve to live with four strangers without even mentioning it? Cleve didn’t even want to hear the reason behind that.

When Cleve arrived home, he threw open the door so that it banged against the wall, yet his uncle didn’t even look up from the documents he was reading. To Cleve it was an obvious display of stubbornness in the impending argument.

“You need to undo this housing agreement of me living with three other people,” Cleve said firmly, readying himself for the verbal duel. “You do have the power to do that, don’t you?” He set down the leather bag that held his bow and quiver, then unhitched the quarterstaff from his back and brought it to the weapons cabinet.

“I have the power, but I won’t.” Terren let down his pen, giving one eye to Cleve. “This is good for you and necessary. Put the quarterstaff behind the swords.”

“I was going to live alone on campus.” Cleve rearranged his quarterstaff as instructed.

“There are no student houses that accommodate one person, only two or four. When the King financed the construction of the Academy, he still tried to save some money where he could. It’s cheaper to have students living together than on their own.” Terren picked up his pen and inspected another document.

“Then I should live with only one person, not three.”

“Three will be better for you. You don’t know anyone, Cleve. The more people you can meet the better.”

Cleve leaned against the weapons cabinet with folded arms. “When does the contract end so I can move somewhere else?”

Terren let out a discouraged breath and set down his papers. “You have to start giving people a chance. Don’t go into the situation impatient for it to end.”

“Just tell me,” Cleve demanded. He couldn’t stand to hear any more social advice from his friendless uncle.

“The contract is set for the year.”

“The entire year?” Cleve repeated with disbelief. “There must be some way out of it.”

“There are certain scenarios when a student can move before the contract is over. But leave it for now. We can revisit this in a couple months.” Terren’s eyes lowered back to his desk. His voice became quiet. “…If needed.”

Cleve grunted, defeated. Never had he won an argument with Terren, and he knew he wasn’t about to start now. He turned toward his room but stopped when Terren pushed out his chair to stand.

“One more thing, Cleve. This is going to sound a lot worse than it really is.” Terren paused for a slow breath. “One of the students in your house is a psychic.”

Cleve felt hot fear winding tightly in his stomach. “No, no, no,” he muttered to himself.

“It’s going to be fine.” Terren pushed out his palms. “Her name is Reela, and I’m sure she’s just like every other psychic in the school—nothing like Rek.”

Run, just go, into Raywhite Forest, get out of here.
Cleve’s heart was beating so hard it felt like the skin around his chest was being stretched. He put his hands on his head for some alleviation and strode quickly to the front door. Outside he paced in a circle, sucking the cool air into his burning lungs. It took all his energy to keep himself from fleeing.

Soon Terren had joined him, putting a hand on his back. “I know this frightens you, but you’ll find out as soon as you meet her that there’s absolutely nothing to be worried about.”

It took years after Cleve’s parents were killed for him to start feeling somewhat stable again. The thought of a psychic plumbing the depths of his mind was worse than any bear. Like a massive dam being destroyed, his memories could pour out like an unstoppable river if she were to fish around.

Cleve made a conscious effort to slow his breathing. Finding the strength to speak again, he asked, “When you say she’s just like other psychics, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean she’s useless. Most psychics can pick up on a bit of Bastial Energy and it makes them feel special, so they start training as a psychic. But in actuality, even chemists can do more with Bastial Energy than people who think they’re psychics.” Terren let out a regretful sigh. “Rek is one-of-a-kind. A true master of psyche, and there will be no other psychics like him. He’s the only one who could pick up on thoughts, make people tell the truth, or really anything useful, or dangerous, or scary, or whatever it is you’re thinking other psychics can do. But none of them can. If Rek was still teaching, the chances of another powerful psychic emerging in the school would actually be possible, but our psychic teacher is no better than a glorified babysitter.”

Cleve wanted to believe his uncle but couldn’t. If one psychic could become as powerful as Rek, then why couldn’t others? “Why aren’t there other psychics like Rek?” Cleve asked. “Was it because he was trained in the castle by the King’s staff?”

“No, that couldn’t be it. He was the King’s lab rat, adopted to be studied by the King’s team of scientists and nothing more. He’s the only Elf I know of to set foot in Kyrro, brought here tied to the back of a wolf like the hero from the children’s story
Prince
from the Woods
, except the King embraced him not with love but out of curiosity. He was just a baby, so he knew nothing more than we did about his past.”

“You never told me this,” Cleve said. “I didn’t even know he was an Elf.”

“That’s because when I told you what Rek could do, you didn’t wish to hear about anything else.” Terren spoke with the same tone as when they’d last talked about Cleve’s father.

“You were good friends?”

“That we were.” Terren sighed, shaking the frustration out of his face. “Still are, I just don’t get to see him very often. At least it’s nice to know he’s out there in case we need him for anything.” Terren looked to the northern mountains with absent eyes. “The Elf is quite extraordinary.”

Cleve was exhausted and couldn’t listen to anything else about psychics. What may be extraordinary to his uncle was simply scary to most others…and terrifying to him. Cleve started back into the house. “I’m going to lie down.”

“Are you still mad?” Terren asked with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

He was, but there was no point in showing it. Cleve thought to ask, “
Why didn’t you tell me about this living arrangement earlier?”
But he knew what the answer would be,
“Because I figured you would react this way.”
Instead, Cleve decided to show some mercy. “It depends on whether you make my favorite breakfast tomorrow.”

“You know eggs and toast are all I know how to make,” Terren replied predictably.

“You’re lucky it’s my favorite, then.”

Chapter 3: Side Effects

STEFFEN

Steffen had moved his belongings into the student house and organized his potions, empty beakers, and plants in his bedroom, transforming it into the sanctuary he was used to back home in Oakshen. Today was the first day that students were allowed in their cozy campus houses. Steffen was hoping Cleve would be there as well but wasn’t surprised when Cleve didn’t show up that day. Judging by their first meeting, he didn’t expect Cleve to be eager to move in. Steffen had spent the last two days analyzing what had happened in the woods with Cleve, convincing himself that he’d come off as disrespectful. He was looking forward to apologizing.

Steffen made sure his plants were in the areas that would get the most light, that Fred was comfortable in his new cage neatly positioned at the base of his closet, and that his potions were separated into the appropriate groups with emergency potions in an accessible area.

His favorite potion he simply called “fire” and considered it to be the most important in his collection, which was common with any new potion he discovered, he realized. However, this one was different from most new potions—the effects were dangerously powerful. It was made from the red petals of queensblood flowers he’d found in Raywhite Forest, yellow petals of goldbellows he’d had to purchase from the market in Oakshen before he left, and enough of his own Bastial Energy for dizziness to overcome him for every few drops of the mixture he produced.

Steffen found himself having difficulty keeping his eyes off the fire potion. It beckoned to him from the shelf. Its golden-red liquid was so beautiful, and the power it bestowed called to be used. He already could taste the bittersweet flavor of it on his tongue as both hands drew toward it.
All new potions should be tested to see if they can be absorbed through the skin, and I haven’t done so with “fire” yet
.
Before allowing himself to further analyze the pros and cons of his idea, Steffen grabbed the potion, snatched Fred’s cage, and marched outside to make sure he didn’t set the house ablaze.

He looked around for something he could destroy that no one would miss but soon realized he was in a terrible place to be testing. Student houses made of wood were packed all around him.
Without a trek off campus, I’m unlikely to find anything incombustible,
he realized with disappointment.
If it can be absorbed through the skin, I’ll have to discharge the energy into the dirt to be safe
. He set Fred’s cage down.

“Watch this, Fred. If I were a betting man, I’d wager all my money that this works.” Fred sniffed at him and squeaked.

Steffen spread the thick liquid onto his forearm. His skin jumped as the potion slowly disappeared into him. Once it escaped his view, he carefully placed the beaker behind him.

“Now we wait, Fred. If it can indeed be absorbed through the skin, it could be anywhere from a couple seconds to thirty minutes until it takes effect depending on the strength of the substance. Based on the amount of Bastial Energy needed to create this potion, we can make an educated guess that it should take effect rather quickly.”

Steffen glanced at Fred to find the rat more interested in the round bars of his cage than in what Steffen was telling him.

“Hi, Steffen!” Reela shouted from the distance.

Steffen let out a dismayed grunt. “Reela couldn’t have come at a worse time,” he whispered to Fred.

He began to feel some heat bubbling in his stomach and chest—the familiar early effects of the potion. He couldn’t shout back to Reela without risking an expulsion of the energy.
Reela, please stop there,
he thought as strongly as he could.
Don’t come any closer. Please hear this, Reela. Stop there
.

The heat was trying to escape his body. If he didn’t let it out now, he might burp it out. Or worse, it might come out his other end. He checked and found Reela hadn’t come closer and then concentrated on propelling the energy from his hands toward the ground.

From the time of one rapid heartbeat to another, all the energy from the effects of the potion gathered up into his palms, formed a fireball, and shot into the dirt with such force there was an explosion. An eruption of sand was blown back into Steffen’s face. He lost his footing and fell backward.

“Testing out a new potion?” Reela asked, now standing above him.

“Yes, it works wonderfully.” Feeling the crunch of sand between his teeth when he spoke, he spat three times. He glanced over to find that Fred’s cage was filled with dirt. The rat was buried to his eyes but didn’t seem to mind as he feasted on as much as he could swallow.

“Don’t eat the dirt!” Steffen shouted, scrambling to his feet and rushing over to the cage.

“When did you get a pet rat? He’s monstrous.” Reela’s tone was on the verge of disgusted.

“If he eats all that dirt his stomach will burst!” Steffen reached a finger into the cage to begin scooping it out, but Fred turned and snapped at him, taking off the tip of his fingernail. “Don’t bite me, Fred! I’m trying to save you. Reela, please stop him from eating the dirt.”

Reela sighed as she slouched over the cage. “You always have the strangest issues, and I don’t like this rat. He’s aggressive.”

“I know, but please help him.”

“Let me concentrate a moment.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. When she was ready, she aimed her palm at Fred. “There, he’s calm for now. Hurry up and get the dirt out of there. He won’t bite you.”

Trusting her, Steffen took the cage and slowly turned it on its side, squeezing two fingers inside to lift up the rat. He poured a small river of dirt out as he held the rat above it.

“Fred, you’ve gotten heavy. I can barely lift you with two fingers.” Steffen put the cage back down and took the rare opportunity to pet the rat with one finger, forming a sad smile. “I wish Fred could always be like this.”