Bastial Energy (50 page)

“That’s not always true,” Reela answered. “Sometimes your body knows what your mind doesn’t. Let your body guide you, Cleve. Isn’t that what you’re good at? Isn’t that why you’re such a skilled warrior? Why trust your body with a deadly weapon without trusting your own heart? Let go of the barrier you put up. Let it down, even if it’s just for right now.”

“I can’t.”
I want to, but I can’t.

“You’re stronger than you think. You can. Just let the fear go.”

He took another step to her. The blood pumping from his heart was burning. His head felt clouded, unable to think of anything besides her lips. He fought so hard to stop himself from going toward her.

Just breathe
, he told himself
.
Think about this. You can stop yourself
. But he’d been trying to stop himself since he’d met her, and he was exhausted.

When his legs did not stop moving toward her, he knew he’d lost, so he embraced the heat boiling within.

He came up to her hand but ignored it, instead wrapping his arms around the bars to place his hands through her hair and onto the back of her head. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was her lips opening ever so slightly, welcoming him. They locked with his.

He kissed her so hard she gave a soft moan of surprise, but then she pushed just as hard right back. Her hands came up to latch onto his arms, squeezing tighter as they kissed.

His entire world became her mouth. There were no thoughts, nothing but the rhythmic smacking that they created as they frantically closed their lips around each other’s. His breathing became heavy, sucking in and out violently through his nose. He noticed the same about her, but she was breathing out through her mouth.

The sweet taste of her breath was mixed with the honey smell of her intoxicating hair, creating an insatiable desire for more of her. The heat in his body was building. Her lips gave him a surge of pleasure that ran down his neck. But it was still not enough. Cleve lost control of himself through a mixture of frustration, excitement, and pleasure, bundled together and spinning wildly somewhere in his chest.

He wanted to break down the bars, throw her onto his small prison bed, and rip off her dress. She bit down on his lip for a quick nibble, then put her tongue in his mouth. He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth, forcing her tongue back playfully. Reela moaned softly and opened her mouth wide to accept him. Soon she pushed back, and their tongues danced together for a few wild breaths before he and Reela returned to locking lips.

They were pushing so hard against each other that it hurt. Or maybe that was just him knowing this was likely to be the last time he’d ever be with her.

Someone was tapping on his shoulder with a stick of some sort. He realized it had been tapping at him for a while now. Then he heard the jailer’s voice, again suddenly realizing it had been speaking for some time. “I must take the lady away. We have to escort Rek, and her visiting time is up. Procedures need to be followed.”

Reela pulled away, only for a blink, returning immediately for more. He grabbed her face and kissed her hard.

The jailor shook his shoulder. “She needs to go.”

Again she leaned away. Her eyes were longing, and Cleve was certain he had the same look for her.

Cleve peeled his body from the metal bars. His heart ached. It could have been from the force he’d used to push himself into the bars, but it didn’t seem to fade like the pain in his collar did. It was a deeper ache, a pinch in the back of his heart. It grew worse when he took his eyes off Reela for a moment, so he stared back at her.

Then he noticed muffled hollers from Rek’s cell. It sounded like Rek might have been trying to shout at Cleve through the gag. However, later when he was escorted past Cleve’s cell and gave a wink, Cleve realized it must’ve been cheering.

Before Reela left, she grabbed his hands tightly with both of hers and pressed them together so that his palms were flat against each other. He felt weak in her grasp, but he didn’t mind it.

“Reela, I—” he started.

“Me, too,” she ended. “Whatever it is, me, too.”

The last he saw of her was a sad smile.

A few minutes after they were both gone, Cleve heard Captain Mmzaza wake with a snort and walk to the bars. “Ah, the pretty is gone. Did I miss anything?”

A smile came to Cleve that was so wide, he wondered if his cheeks had ever been pushed so far out before. It felt like stretching a muscle that had never been used. He crashed onto the bed. His chest was still heaving in and out.

Perhaps he didn’t want to give his mind a chance to take over again, or maybe he just wanted to break the silence. For whatever reason, he asked a strange question to a strange man. It was a question he never would have asked to a person whose answer he never would have cared to hear, but so many
never would haves
had just been broken, so he found no reason to hold on to those that remained.

“What do you think love is, CM?”

“Love, ah, Captain Mmzaza knows about that. Love makes a frail man tough, and a tough man frail. I’ve known boys who would sail with me into the heaviest storm. They were never scared until they met a woman, had themselves a family. Then what they thought was bravery before, they suddenly thought to be stupidity. The thought of being away from their woman was worse than any storm. So they took different work, safe work.”

Captain Mmzaza sat back down on his bed, letting out a long groan. “I’ve also known the other side of it, boys who were cowards until they had love. One of them was my brother. He hated the water, nothing scared him more. But then his wife became sick with the wet cough, and he didn’t have the money they needed for the doctor and his potions. My brother took a crabbing sail, good money in that. They were to fish for crabs around the Ice Isle. And even though the weather was bad, they went.”

Captain Mmzaza stopped to let out a soft burp, then chose to grumble something instead of continuing the story.

“Did something happen to him?” Cleve asked.

“Sure did, he died, but not from that trip. They caught many crabs, made lots of money. He paid for the doctor, wife got better. He was killed in a bar fight, one he started. Love doesn’t make ya immune to your own foolishness.” He had a bitter grunt of a laugh. “Are ya in love, boy?”

Cleve could feel his mind taking control again. It was feeding him regrets, burying his feelings for Reela. “I hope not,” he muttered.

She makes you weak. Don’t long for something you can’t have. You’ll probably never see her again. You shouldn’t lose control like that. Imagine if that happened during thoughts of your parents?

He felt a sudden rage storm into him. He balled his fist and sat up. He was ready to fight, but what was his enemy? Then he realized it was these thoughts.
“What are you scared of? Don’t be such a coward!”
He wanted to shout it.

It felt like a war was going on within him, his heart against his mind, and if he didn’t pick a side it would tear him in half.

So without another thought, he did.
I don’t care about logic. I want her.

A sweet satisfaction started down his neck, moving toward his heart. But before he could truly enjoy his victory, more voices came down the stone hallway. It was two men this time—the jailer and someone else.

When he saw the silhouette of the man, he knew it had to be his uncle. Terren’s hair was blonde, although it had begun to turn brown in some spots. Terren combed it to the side, leaving it to hang loosely as long as it was out of his face. After a good bout, it would be spread across his forehead before he pushed it back to the side. His chin was round and small, his nose nothing threatening, but toughness could always be found in his eyes. They were deep into his skull, dark, long, and thin. The jailer walked in front of him, but Cleve still could see most of Terren’s face behind the jailer because of his height, which almost matched his own.

“Another visitor for you, Cleve. I’ve never seen such a popular prisoner.”

Captain Mmzaza’s face came out for a glance. “Ah, just a man. I was hoping the pretty had returned.”

Cleve had hoped for the same. He was unsure how his uncle would react to his reason for being imprisoned. When he’d imagined this moment, he was there because the bow was discovered, not because he’d tried—and failed—to kill Terren’s only friend.

“I’ll leave you to it.” The jailer left.

“What have you heard?” Cleve reluctantly asked his uncle.

“The King told me all of it. I have to say, the rats were the best part.” Terren forced a smile. “Rek really is something special, isn’t he?”

“Why don’t you sound upset?” Cleve asked, beginning to feel confused frustration.

Terren sighed loudly. “I was trying to lighten the mood. You never let yourself feel better when something bad happens, even when others try to cheer you up. Of course I’m upset. But I’m still proud of you.”

Cleve figured Terren was talking about not shooting Rek. There was nothing else to be proud about. “Don’t be. I would’ve taken the shot if I’d had one to take. I fell asleep, and Rek found me before I woke. I would’ve done it. Not that I wanted to.”

“You can’t be sure of that. It’s not like shooting a tree, Cleve. Once you’re aiming at a man, it’s likely to trigger something deep. Do you remember how many deer you missed before finally hitting one? We both knew you were capable of making the shot, but it took weeks before you finally did. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t take the animal’s life, so you missed. It wasn’t even a conscious decision. Now you think you could shoot a man who you’ve never met? Do you really think that?”

“If I knew for certain that he was an enemy.”

“But you didn’t know that about Rek. You couldn’t have.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And I’m proud of you for that, even if the King isn’t.”

The old seaman poked his head out. “Want to know what Captain Mmzaza thinks?”

“No, we don’t care,” Cleve answered quickly.

Terren peered around curiously at the other cells. There were four in their hall, two of which were empty now with Rek gone.

The captain continued anyway. “Captain Mmzaza has taken the lives of thousands of fish, but never a man. But if the King said to shoot a man, then Captain Mmzaza would do it.”

Again Terren checked the other cells for someone else. “Who is Captain Mmzaza?” Terren finally asked. “And why do we care?”

“Captain Mmzaza is I, the greatest captain of our day. I can guide a ship through any water, any storm.”

“Ignore him,” Cleve said.

“Right, already decided that as soon as I found out he was talking in third person,” Terren replied.

Captain Mmzaza continued, “If the King wants me to drive a ship, I would do it. I would expect some payment, though…”

Terren was now pushing his head through the bars of Cleve’s cell. He spoke softly as Captain Mmzaza rambled in the background about something. “Cleve, I wish there was more I could do, but I can’t. I never should have let you take that bow.”

“They knew I had it even before I moved from your house. They would’ve found it anyway. Don’t blame yourself. It was my choice to keep it all these years, and I don’t regret it.”

Terren’s mouth twisted, and for a breath Cleve couldn’t tell if he would yell or whisper. Then Terren gave one quick nod and let out a sad smile. “I’m going to get you back here as soon as possible. It’s going to be difficult with the war going on, but I’ll find a way to convince the King to bring you back.”

He doesn’t know King Welson as well as he thinks he does,
Cleve realized. “I know.” He felt too bad for his uncle to tell him how impossible that would be. “I know you will.”

“There’s something else I need to speak to you about. King Welson has a mission for first-year students. He just told me about it right before I saw you.”

“You were just with him now? Who else was up there?” Cleve wondered if the King would be stupid enough to put Rek in the same room as his Elven brother.

“An Elf and a Krepp. They’re coming along on the mission with the first-years and me. The King was too busy to spend any time discussing the Elf and the Krepp with me, though. Says we’ll get to know each other soon enough.”

Yes, he’s going to be too busy for you from now on, especially when you start asking about bringing me back to Kyrro.
“You didn’t see Rek?”

“I saw him after I spoke to the King. He was gagged, waiting to be brought in. We didn’t get to speak. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time, so I must get to business. We’re supposed to be leaving now. The King wants me to select first-year students for the mission, and I can use your opinion about some of them.”

“Why first-years and not more experienced students?”

“Because we need as many for battle as we can, and the first-years aren’t ready yet, but some still possess the skill this mission requires. You know the people I’m thinking about bringing because two of them are your roommates. What do you know of Effie Elegin? Her ranks are very good, and we need a mage. Marie Fyremore spoke highly of her.”

That’s an easy answer.
“She’s strong and confident, a good mage for any task.”