Bastial Energy (53 page)

She drew it gracefully with three fingers as if it was as light as a feather. “This is a wand,” she said.

A wand, of course
. Zoke had read about them but hadn’t recognized it right away. “You’re a mage?”

“Yes,” she answered, putting her wand back in its place.

“I was told we can find the Slugari in northern Satjen?” Terren asked.

“Yes,” Zoke answered and then translated for Vithos.

“Tell them we want to get there as soon as we can,” Vithos said. Zoke translated.

“We do as well,” Terren replied. “You lead and we’ll follow.”

And so their introductions had ended. Zoke was pleased that the Humans didn’t ask many questions. He had a feeling he would need to explain what had led him and Vithos here, but he was glad that didn’t have to happen yet. Although familiar with the language, Zoke was reluctant to reveal so much before he understood more about the Humans. He needed some sort of clue as to what kind of reputation his story would give him among this race.

He and Vithos walked in front while the Humans trailed a few yards behind, talking amongst themselves. They seemed to be having a conversation about someone with the name “Cleve.” Zoke didn’t give it any thought.

Soon, they reentered the Fjallejon pathway that he and Vithos had crossed through that morning. It was where they met the small brown men who made them wait for guards to come escort them the rest of the way to the King of Kyrro.

“I think it’s time I learn some common tongue,” Vithos said.

Zoke agreed, but he was barely still on his feet after everything that had happened that day. Not only had they walked more than twenty miles already, translating all day hadn’t been easy. He wasn’t used to talking and listening at the same time, which seemed to be expected of him by the Humans, who wouldn’t wait for him to finish translating to Kreppen before they continued talking.

“Yes, I wish we’d known to start your training weeks ago,” Zoke told Vithos. “I’ll give you a few words to practice for tonight, but I’m too tired for any more than that.”

He thought back to the first book he’d ever had on the language. It was obviously written by a Human who had learned Kreppen because its style was unlike any other book Zoke had seen. Its first twenty pages were dedicated to charts of grammar, tenses, key words, and notes about pronunciation. The rest of it was divided into sections labeled as chapters. There were sometimes little numbers next to a word, and at the bottom of the page the number would show up again with some note next to it. It was overwhelming at first, but as he started to learn phrases, it became addicting.

In the market a few years later, someone was trading a book about common tongue that was different from his. Other Krepps didn’t have an interest in it, so he was able to get it for just a wooden spoon. He quickly realized this one had been written by a Krepp because there were no charts, no notes, and no chapters. It was basically a list of translations that started with words and eventually led to phrases. It was the kind of writing he’d expected upon opening the first book, but now that he had seen both, he discovered the one written by the Human was superior in teaching him the language. It gave him more respect for the race that all Krepps thought of as weaker.

One of the Humans approached, and Zoke tried to remember his name. He was the shortest of the three men, the one of equal height to Zoke.

”Mind if I ask you a question?” he asked. Each of the Humans had a soft tone compared to Krepps. It sounded like their voices were coming from the tops of their throats instead of their stomachs, making them higher pitched and feeble.

The name came back to him. “Steffen,” Zoke said to practice it. Saying words aloud had always been his method of learning common tongue. “You can ask.”

Steffen seemed to hold an excited smile. “I read a lot of history, but there is none written about Krepps and Humans interacting. Obviously, some Humans and Krepps must have met before because there are some books about the Kreppen language, and we use the same measurement system. Did you learn our language from a book as well, or from a Human?”

He wasn’t sure why the Human was interested, but he found no reason not to answer his question. “I learned from books. Most Krepps never meet Humans, this is true.”

“I see. I was wondering something else, also.” Steffen’s voice was even softer now, somewhat fearful even, as if he could be hurt easily by Zoke’s answer. “What do Krepps think about Humans?”

His tone made Zoke think twice about what words to use. “Humans have soft skin, easily cut, easily hurt, but you’re good builders.” He would have said Humans were weak, frail, that they stood little chance against Krepps in battle, but something held him back. He thought Steffen might not be able to endure those words, as true as they were.

The answer seemed to satisfy Steffen, whose head was lowered and nodding subtly. “Do you wonder what Humans think of Krepps?” he asked with a look from the side of his eye. It seemed as if Steffen was barely holding back a stare.

“I haven’t wondered about that,” Zoke answered honestly. Humans were interesting, the way they could build monumental castles even though they themselves were frail. But he’d never once wondered what they thought of Krepps. It had never seemed like something that mattered, and it still didn’t. War would be fought no matter if the Humans hated the Krepps or loved them. “Why are you curious about what Krepps think of Humans?”

Steffen scratched his head with a finger. “I’m not sure.” He started to say something else, only to close his mouth and rest his hand on his forehead. His head tilted. “I don’t know. I guess right now it wouldn’t make a difference no matter what Krepps thought of us. But I’m still curious.”

“Is it normal for Humans to be curious and unable to explain why?” Zoke asked. There was nothing in his book about that. It seemed like a major flaw with their race. Krepps were born with curiosity, but it faded as they got older. It was never looked at as a valuable trait. Hunting, leatherworking, learning a weapon, these were seen as important, and curiosity had nothing to do with any of them. Curiosity usually just led to injury. Their children were taught not to act upon it.

Steffen let out a soft humming sound. “It might be,” he said. “Curiosity is a strange thing. Often I can’t explain it, but then again I’m not good at understanding my feelings, at least that’s what I’ve been told.” His tone changed like he’d just lost a duel. He let out air loudly and slowed down to walk with the other Humans.

Humans seem to be confused easily,
Zoke thought.

While he never had issues understanding his own feelings, there
was
something else he’d had much difficulty with, and he was just reminded of it again—the question of whether he was a traitor. He couldn’t seem to get it out of his mind.

When Nebre had called him a coward, he knew that to be untrue. It was the word
“traitor” that he couldn’t let go of as easily.
“You must be a traitor to let Vithos live all this time.”
Zoke could still hear him screaming it every time thoughts of his old friend came to him.
“I’m the one who fought. I’m the one who tried to kill the Elf. You would rather be a traitor than risk your life for the tribe.”
Zoke wished he could go back to that moment after he’d wrestled Nebre off Vithos. He had an easy answer for the accusations, now that he’d had time to think about it.

“Vithos doesn’t deserve to die.”
It was as simple as that.

In the four days since then, Zoke had thought a lot about what he could have done differently after leaving the tribe with Vithos. He could have killed the Elf while he slept, removing his head for proof and bringing it back to the Krepp encampment. However, he wasn’t a murderer. Vithos was no threat to Zoke or anyone he cared about. He even considered the Elf a friend now. No way could have Zoke done what Nebre had tried to do, even if it had meant he could return to the tribe.

He could have gone back to search for the camp right after Vithos had told him the truth, but Vithos said Doe and Haemon already had marked him as a traitor. The Elf had been right about everything else, and that was no different. His old friend Nebre had confirmed it.

Zoke could have left Vithos and spent the rest of his life alone, but no Krepp wished for a life of solitude. Eventually, his loneliness would have overcome the risk of returning to camp. It could be weeks, or even years, but at some point he would have tried to convince the tribe he was no traitor. It surely would have led to his death. He knew that now.

His last option would have been to travel to the Human territories in an attempt to join them. It was risky, and Zoke didn’t even know what to hope for in a life with Humans. They might have attacked him on sight if he’d come without a message and the psychic Elf at his side.

No, he’d made the right choice. Even if he’d known all along that he would end up here, joining the enemies of his tribe, he still would have stayed with Vithos.

It made him a traitor. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He fit the definition. Every Krepp is taught that traitors deserve to die, so he never would have thought he’d be one.

It’s not like being a traitor happened by accident. You had to do something malicious to the tribe as a whole, like attack Doe or Haemon, assault a chief, sabotage the farms, or prevent the Slugari from being found. Siding with someone who was a traitor was just as bad.
And traitors deserve to die
—Zoke had heard it countless times, even believed it himself until recently.
But Vithos doesn’t deserve to die, and neither do I, although we’re both traitors. But Zeti doesn’t either. Now that I’m thinking about it, neither do Nebre or any other Krepps.

Zoke wasn’t even sure Doe or Haemon deserved to die. But if death was the only way of stopping them, stopping this war, and being with Zeti again, then killing them was all he could hope for.

Chapter 53: We

ZOKE

After half a mile into the Fjallejon pathway, Zoke heard voices somewhere within the mountain. It sounded like an unseen Human was shouting at another. Then there was the distinct sound of steel clanking. Both sounds together created an image of a blacksmith screaming at someone while hammering on a hot sword.

Some thoughts later, he realized there were actually more than two voices. He heard distant screams, some of anger, others of anguish. The sound of steel became clearer, and he realized he heard swords clashing.

The Human leader halted. “Stop, listen.”

Zoke gave a small tug on Vithos’ arm to stop him.

“We’re under attack,” the leader said with urgency in his voice.

Terren, that’s his name,
Zoke remembered. Utterly confused, he looked around and saw no one. “If we’re under attack, where are our enemies?”

“On the mountaintop!” Terren’s voice was loud and low now. “Alex, take out the pigeon.” Terren pulled a small scroll and pen from a pouch on his belt. “Hopefully, they already sent one from up there, but in case they couldn’t, we’re telling the castle about the attack.”

Alex set down the cage, unlatched its door, and grabbed the bird with both hands. Terren wrapped the scroll around one of the pigeon’s legs, and then Alex threw the bird into the air. It flew back the way they’d come, rising higher as it went until it disappeared over the mountains.

“Leave the empty cage. Everyone follow me and hurry. There’s a way up in a tunnel ahead.” Terren sprinted past Zoke.

Steffen and the others were running after him. “I thought the only way to the mountaintop was going miles around to the east?” Steffen’s tone had a mixture of panic and confusion.

Zoke kept close to them, translating for Vithos as best he could. He still didn’t know what Terren meant when he said they were under attack because he found no one in sight. He started to believe that by the word
“we,”
Terren was referring to Humans somewhere atop the mountain and not specifically to their group.

“There’s a reason you thought that,” Terren told Steffen while they followed the mountain path along a tight twist, their bags shaking violently as they ran. “The passage up the mountain is supposed to be kept from Tenred. Best way to make sure of that is for as few people as possible to know about it. It was designed so that we could quickly offer support to the Fjallejons if they were attacked.”

After another turn, a tunnel came into view. It was created by both sides of the mountains coming together ten feet from the ground. The tunnel had been dark when Zoke and Vithos were escorted through it that morning. By now, with night upon them, it was pitch black.

“Effie!” Terren shouted over the sounds of battle echoing in circles around them. “Get us some light, bright as you can.”

A burst of yellow exploded from her wand. It was too much to look at, so Zoke turned away.

“Find a crevice between rocks,” Terren told them, sweeping his hands along a wall.

Within the tunnel, the walls were more like oval boulders than the jagged mountainsides along the rest of the pathway. There were gaps everywhere, most too small to stick more than a hand through.

“It’s a low gap we need to find,” Terren added. “About half the height of a Fjallejon.”