Bastial Energy (29 page)

“The Fjallejons are also required to stop you as they wait for confirmation from the King to let you pass. However, there’s a code that will allow you through without waiting. For this week, it’s ‘like father like son, like brother like none.’ Speak it once you’re stopped and again when you return. We don’t have time for mistakes because your target could move any day now.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“The more of us there are, the more likely we’ll be sensed or seen. You’ll go alone from here. We expect you back before tomorrow evening.”

Cleve was relieved. Without the guard at his side, he might think of something yet to get him out of killing Rek.

“Any questions?” the guard asked.

“Does the head of the Academy know of this?”

The guard grimaced as if offended. “Why does it matter?”

Because he’s my uncle, and Rek is the only friend he has.
Because he wouldn’t believe the Elf is a traitor and would do everything in his power to stop this.
“I wish for my teachers to know why I’m absent.”
That sounded genuine enough
.

“You can speak to the King about issuing a statement when you return with the Elf’s head.” Without giving Cleve a chance to ask another question, the guard turned and paced back south.

Like father like son, like brother like none
. Cleve couldn’t help but think the code had something to do with him and his task. He thought about it more as he walked between the mountainsides, yet the magnificence of where he was soon settled in, giving him a pleasant distraction.

Giant slabs of rock shielded him from all elements. It was eerily quiet. Though, he thought he heard the
clank
of metal yet couldn’t decipher from where.

As he continued, he saw that in some places the two mountainsides still were connected, turning the pathway into a tunnel for a stretch. Twists and turns were everywhere, causing no part of the road to look exactly the same as any other, but it also prevented Cleve from seeing where it ended.

After what felt like five miles, the mountains dipped and the gap widened. Cleve spotted a tiny man with mud-brown skin, wearing ragged clothes that looked as if they’d never been washed. He was sitting with a spear across his lap but stood when Cleve was close. His head came up no farther than Cleve’s chest.

“Speak common tongue?” The deepness in his voice came as a shock. The short man spoke with a thick accent as well.

“Yes.”

“Speak the code and we let you pass. Or you wait. Or you have trouble.” The Fjallejon used his spear to point up, where dozens more waited atop the mountains, peering over curiously.

“Like father like son, like brother like none.”

“You may pass.” He shuffled his little feet to stand aside.

“How much farther do these mountains go?”

“You halfway.”

The second half was no different from the first—except light was quickly beginning to fade, and Cleve’s thoughts of despair were becoming unhinged again.

When he emerged from the canyon, he found Corin Forest to his right just as the King had described for him once again that morning. The sun was setting behind it, painting the tops of the trees with a touch of gold. Rek’s wooden cabin was difficult to spot among the surrounding trees, but Cleve found it after climbing a tall hill.

He sat back on his heels and retrieved his bow from the bag, refusing to let himself think about anything. The hill evened out, giving him a comfortable observation point. The cabin was roughly as far as the wooden target was atop the castle. Although this time, he would need to shoot at a forty-five-degree angle. It wasn’t something he’d practiced.

Even after the hours he’d walked in silence, not one better idea came to him. One thought was simply knocking on Rek’s door to explain the situation, but nothing good could come of that.

Now thoughts swirled into his mind so strongly, he couldn’t ignore them any longer.
The King wants his head, so I can either get it here and now or run and never return.
The thought of running was worse than the rest. Cleve knew he’d rather die than live in fear and marked as a traitor for the rest of his life.
No man wants to live in fear.
It suddenly made him more aware of why King Welson Kimard had outlawed bows.

Cleve had a similar dread of the weapon after his father, the strongest man he’d known, was killed by one. It made Cleve realize how fragile life could be, especially his own. It had to have been the same for Welson Kimard. But unlike the King, Cleve discovered that training with the bow was the only way to remember his father without the depression that came with it. He still hadn’t found a way to do the same for his mother. That sometimes made him worry he might forget about her completely.

Now the threat of Rek’s power is what’s terrifying the King—something I understand completely
. And with that realization came his answer.
It was a direct order from the King. I hope Terren will understand
. Cleve made himself bury everything else he was feeling deep down. It made him sick with disgust, but it gave him the strength to do what he knew needed to be done.

The sky became black with waves of stars before there were any signs of the Elf. Then a light popped on within the cabin and the Elf—
Rek, his name is Rek; no, don’t think about that
—walked by the window.

Another hour passed. The Elf had walked by the cabin window many times, but unless Cleve’s target stationed himself within view, Cleve had a better chance of using his words to convince the Elf to take his own life.

After another hour, weariness came over Cleve, making it impossible to keep focused. His nerves had been restless for so long, and his lack of sleep surely wasn’t helping. The concern developed that he couldn’t make the shot without regaining his energy. He tried to think about how many hours he’d been awake but gave up quickly, realizing it was too much work to figure out. He lay on his back with the bow across his body. Instantly, he was blanketed in bliss and knew he wouldn’t rise until his weariness had been relieved with rest.

Cleve awoke with a gasp and his heart racing. Although light had come, there was no sun in the gray sky. The wetness of dawn was cool against his face. He peered down into the cabin. The lamp must have been blown out. It was impossible to tell if the Elf was inside or not.

For reasons he couldn’t describe, he suddenly felt soothed, more relaxed than he ever remembered. Suddenly he thought of Reela—of how beautiful she was, and he wanted to tell her that. He stood to stretch his legs and arms. Tingles of pleasure washed over his body.

“Hello,” a voice spoke from behind.

He calmly turned to see who it was and found an Elf. “You must be Rek.” Cleve smiled and waved.

“Yes, and what’s your name?” Rek smiled back. He was tall and thin with ears that came to a point at the top, like Cleve had seen in drawings of Elves. With his clean, long hair and smooth skin, Rek was easy to look at. He had Reela’s almond eyes, although they were the color of his dark brown hair, not the radiant green Cleve could picture so easily. The Elf was the friendliest person Cleve had ever met, with a smile that exuded cheer. He felt as if nothing would be more pleasing than helping him.

“Cleve Polken.” It was satisfying to answer the question. He wanted more of them.

“What are you doing here, if I may ask?”

Cleve’s palms opened. “Of course, you can ask anything. King Welson sent me here to kill you and bring back your head…” Something snapped when Cleve heard himself speak those words. Every muscle tightened, the relaxation squeezed out of him. He drew the knife from his belt.

“Stop.” Rek extended an arm at him and pain swarmed through Cleve’s body. It was as if every muscle had cramped.

Cleve screamed as he fell, first to his knees and then onto his side. He could feel the knife drop from his hands but could do nothing to reach for it. Pain overwhelmed every muscle on his body.

Rek sighed, walking over to retrieve the knife.

The pain began to leave his body as Rek walked to the bow and slung it over his shoulder.

“Can we talk or will I need to do that again?” Rek looked forlorn.

Cleve sat up, panting. It felt as if even standing would be a monumental task. “Talk.”

“You’re strong-willed. Not many can fight their way out of a spell. Lucky I found you while you were sleeping.”

Cleve sighed. “Not strong enough, apparently.”

“Tell me what happened. What did Welson Kimard tell you about me?”

It was clear lying would be impossible, so with surprising relief Cleve revealed the situation to Rek. He told the Elf that he was considered an enemy, that he was found to be joining Tenred and the Krepps to attack Kyrro. Cleve told him everything Welson had said about him, how dangerous he was, how his death was necessary, everything Cleve could remember.

Rek took the news with his emotions put aside, that is, until Cleve was finished. Then Rek closed his fists and pressed his lips against his teeth. “This harassment needs to stop. I’m no enemy of Kyrro. Yes, I talked with Tegry Hiller, King of Tenred, but that’s it. Someone must have seen and reported it to Welson Kimard.” He sighed. “What a mess this has become. This is the first I’ve heard of Tenred not renewing the treaty, although it makes sense.”

“What were you speaking about with their king?” Cleve asked, still unsure he could trust the Elf.

“I wanted the help of an army, and being exiled from Kyrro I turned to Tenred. I’d heard of the turmoil that existed between the two kingdoms, but I never knew how bad it really was until Tegry agreed to help only if I joined an attack on the Academy. I accepted so he would agree to assist me, knowing I could change his mind later, but I believe he may have figured that out, for he hasn’t visited again.”

Cleve felt his head whip back in shock by this. “What could you want with an army if you have no interest in attacking Kyrro?” Cleve wanted to trust Rek, but anyone trying to obtain an army seemed dangerous to him. He rose to his feet gingerly, his muscles still aching from the recent spell.

“My reasons are unrelated to both territories,” Rek said, turning his mouth up in a warm smile that reminded Cleve of Reela, which then made his heart flutter. “I’m trying to free someone who’s being held by the Krepps.” Rek’s mouth straightened and he held his chin in thought. “Although now that I’ve heard the Krepps are joining with Tenred, Tegry Hiller would never help me do any harm to them.” Rek shook his head and sighed. “I need to speak with Welson Kimard. If he thinks he can win this war, then he hasn’t seen the massive Slugari within the Krepp army or doesn’t know what they’re capable of like I do.”

Cleve realized he was shaking his head back at Rek. “That’s going to be difficult, as he’s given the order for your head, and mine too as soon as it’s clear my mission has failed. He’s convinced you’re a threat to Kyrro.”

Rek scrunched his mouth like he tasted something sour. “Welson Kimard thinks anyone who has power is a threat. His father was the same but far worse.” Rek handed the dagger and bow back to Cleve without any sign of worry.

Cleve accepted the weapons, knowing by now they were pretty much useless. It made him quite relieved knowing he wasn’t going to have to behead his uncle’s only friend. Though, he still had no idea what to do about the order from the King.

As if able to sense Cleve’s hostility had dissolved, Rek gave him a friendly nod and continued. “I grew up with Welson Kimard. He was my older brother for five years yet always kept his distance from me. I was seven and he was fifteen when his father, Westin Kimard, was killed. He then became King and happily released me from the custody of the castle, knowing I didn’t wish to stay there. We didn’t speak for nine years, until he asked me to start teaching at the Academy when its construction was completed. I thought it was his way of telling me the grudge had finally subsided. But as I taught, and my powers continued to grow over the next five years, concerns from students and teachers must have reached him, for he summoned me.”

“And he exiled you out here?”

“Yes, but only after we got into an argument and I forced him to answer a few tricky questions. He revealed information I’m sure he meant to keep secret.” Rek’s gaze locked on Cleve’s face. “Did you say your name was Polken? Cleve Polken?”

“Yes.”

“Your father was Dex Polken?”

“Did you know him?”

“Not personally, but I’ve heard the name.”

“From King Welson? Did he say something about my father?” Cleve asked before he could consider the question further.

Rek fell silent and his eyes became tense. He held out a palm toward Cleve’s forehead. Suddenly it felt as if ten thousand thoughts were all trying to surface at the same time, causing his head to feel like it was being ripped open.

“What are you doing?” he yelled, grabbing hold of his temples.

Soon, the pulsing pain subsided, and Cleve found himself to be panting.

“I apologize for that. I needed to make an assessment. I don’t think we should get into this, at least not now.”

He knows something. My parents must have been involved with the King, but why wouldn’t they tell me?
Curiosity pressed at Cleve, but he knew that was a barrel of worms best saved for another day. He nodded. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do.” He had no doubts anymore that Rek was on Kyrro’s side, and the King should be informed. Though, he still didn’t like the feeling of being near the powerful psychic. At least Cleve wasn’t strangely infatuated with Rek like he was with Reela. That made everything much easier.