A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4) (23 page)

Through blurred vision, he made out Sanya deeper in the forest. She was fully disguised again, a silver mask hiding her face. She held something in her outstretched hand that Basen had never seen before. It looked like a staff with orbs on either end that were as black as two holes deep enough to reach hell.

She called to him silently with psyche, then moved to hide herself behind the nearest tree. The urge to go to her intensified.

Groans slipped out of Basen’s throat as he tried to crawl away from the sound of Fatholl’s approaching footsteps. He’d never known such agony, as if every muscle was slowly expanding, ripping his skin from the inside out.

Sanya wanted to help him—he just had to make it to her. He tried to keep going, but with Fatholl’s psychic spell came a weakness as if Basen had aged a hundred years. His arms shook under his weight, his muscles refusing to work.

Why didn’t she just alter the energy in the air? Then he could run to her…
the weapon needs bastial energy
. He had to get closer.

As he inched toward her, hands clutched him and turned him over. Fatholl still wouldn’t relent, giving Basen no opportunity to fight back.

The Elf quickly searched his pockets.

“Where is the akorell stone?” Fatholl demanded as he wiped his dagger on the grass to clean off his brother’s blood.

They were all paining him now, he realized, feeling not one but countless minds inside his head. But the pain wasn’t any worse than if Fatholl was the only one. Perhaps Basen had reached the limit of agony he could possibly feel.

He focused to remember what his father had told him about resisting psyche.

“You must feel something stronger than the pain.”

“Where is it?” Fatholl asked again as he pulled a small vial from his pocket. With care, he wiggled off the cork and poured the viscous substance onto his dagger.

Basen needed to buy time. While groaning in pain, he asked, “Will you…let me go…if I give it to you?”

“Of course,” Fatholl said.

Faintly, Basen heard muffled screaming. He managed to turn his head to locate Vithos being dragged off as he tried to yell a warning through a gag.

Fatholl is lying
.

Yet what could Basen do about it? He searched for Sanya again, now unable to locate her. She had to stay back so as not to be detected with psyche, but then how was he supposed to reach her?

At least Yeso is dead and his Elves will no longer fight in this war.
Basen had done his part. His mother was free as well, probably back at the Academy already.

The pain was beginning to anger him as he writhed helplessly. How cruel could one Elf be?
He must know the torture he’s putting me through, yet he doesn’t care.

Fatholl appeared to have finished coating his blade in what had to be poison. He held it away from himself as it dripped.

Basen tried to think of his mother needing him, but she was free now. His father was safe back at the Academy as well.

The Academy—he’d never felt a deeper connection to any other place. But the thought of returning wasn’t enough to override this agony. He screamed as his thoughts broke apart.

Basen noticed something being dragged down his arm. He blinked to clear his blurred vision and saw Fatholl opening up his skin with the poisoned dagger, though Basen was already in too much pain to feel more.

“You don’t have long,” Fatholl said. “I brought the antidote, and you’ll have it once you tell me where the stone is. Then this pain can stop.” He put his hand flat against Basen’s chest. “Your heart can’t take it much longer. It’ll give out, if the poison doesn’t kill you first.”

Anger came over him again, but Basen felt so utterly weak he could do nothing about it. Yes, he could tell them where the akorell stone was, but if they were going to kill him anyway, he didn’t want them to have it.

He thought of his mother and father awaiting his return day after day. Eventually, Juliana would lead a search party. It might be a while, but they would come across his body. His mother would weep for days, weeks, maybe even months.

This didn’t bring Basen the strength he needed. He tried to grab the hand pushing against his chest, but Fatholl simply brushed his arm aside as if Basen were as feeble as a fevered man.

If he didn’t figure a way through this spell, he would die. Fear came over him, but it did nothing to stop the spell. He screamed, just wanting the agony to be over.

“It’s buried,” he said, unable to hold the words back any longer.

“Where?”

“Give me the antidote…and I’ll show you.”

“Tell me where first,” Fatholl demanded.

“I can’t…talk…like this.”

“You will! Get the words out.”

The bastard. Basen shut his eyes and put himself back at the Academy. A piece of it lived inside him now, and it was easy to visit even through the pain. He went back to the training grounds for Group One mages, where Effie was smiling at him in welcome.

Behind her, he could see Alabell. She’d been furious he’d left without telling her, but she was so overjoyed at his return, and so gentle by nature, that her anger evaporated. She smiled and…

Basen could feel his strength returning, the pain fading as the image of Alabell became clearer. She was beautiful beyond words, often making his breath catch in his throat whenever he saw her. She was a healer, a bringer of life in a world of death. A rose in a graveyard.

The only time he truly felt at peace was by her side, and peace was what he needed most during this gruesome time of war.

Fatholl yelped as Basen suddenly kicked him in the face and jumped up. He ran toward where he’d last seen Sanya.

The spell of pain never subsided, but it was now at the back of his mind like the endless, annoying barking of a faraway dog. He could feel all the psychics trying to take him down, but he kept his mind strong as he focused on Alabell within the Academy. He put himself there so vividly, he barely noticed the trees in front of him.

His right arm bumped into a branch and a new surge of pain ran up his body. This was not psyche, he noticed, as he looked down at his arm. His skin had turned red around the open wound and had swollen so much his arm looked twice its usual size.

Suddenly remembering he lacked a plan, Basen lost his focus. The Academy slipped from his mind, Alabell gone with it. Pain burned every inch of his body as if he’d been thrown into a fire.

He stumbled for a while as he screamed, somehow maintaining his balance enough to stay up. But then he lost it and fell without feeling himself hit the ground. He strained to look up. Sanya emerged, her staff glowing as she pointed it over Basen. A great fear came over him, as if staring death in the face.

“Get out of the way!” she urged him.

He put his last strength into rolling to the side.

The sight he beheld was one he knew would stay with him for the rest of his life. Her staff glowed and shook as if about to explode. A great
whoosh
of air came out so violently it threw Basen farther from the path of destruction. As the rushing air came back the other way in a clap, a red sphere as big as the giant they’d faced on top of the mountain tunneled down the forest lane, appearing to bend branches, trunks, and even the ground.

Basen was a good ten yards from it, though that felt far too close as the energy stormed past him. It wasn’t quite pain that he felt as the essence of his being was gently tugged from within his bones, just the utter fear of being sucked out from his body. As in a nightmare, he somehow knew this burning, rippling entity would send him to another world in which he could never return whole again.

Too quick to dodge, it caught two Elves whose eyes rolled back into their heads as their bodies went limp.

All other Elves—even the usually fearless Fatholl—had darted away from Sanya’s line of sight like frightened wild cats.

“You! Don’t move,” Sanya ordered as she walked toward Fatholl. “If any of you try to use psyche on me or come behind me, I will do that again.” She pointed to where the Elves held Vithos. “Release him.”

“Do it,” Fatholl called from behind a tree.

“Give Basen the antidote,” Sanya demanded.

He checked his arm. It felt like air had been trapped within his skin, intense pressure making it difficult to move.

“There is no antidote,” Fatholl said.

Overwhelmed by anger, Basen reached for his sword, only to realize it had been taken. His wand as well. He cursed at Fatholl as he walked toward him. The Elf’s bloody nose wasn’t enough punishment.

“Basen, stop,” Sanya said.

What was he doing? He was about to block her path, and she wouldn’t be able to follow through with her threat without killing Basen as well.

“And no more psyche on him, either,” Sanya told Fatholl.

Basen’s anger—it had been produced by Fatholl.
That sneaky bastard.

“You’re a psychic.” Fatholl took a brave step toward Sanya. “Who are you?”

“No one to you.”

“That’s not true. You’re the masked woman who killed two of my Elves. You should be careful about what else you plan to do.”

“I plan to kill you and the rest of
your
Elves if you take one more step. Or if
anyone
moves again! I see you!”

The Elves closing in on her stopped.

“When you say there’s no antidote…” Basen’s voice trailed off.

“Because the potion isn’t going to kill you,” Fatholl said. “It was just to scare you. Obviously, you’re too much of a fool for it to work.”

“A fool? You mean for knowing you would kill me even after I gave you the stone?” The lack of surprise on Fatholl’s face told Basen he was right. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We won’t be seeing each other again.”

“Don’t you want to know why you were going to die, Basen?”

“What man wouldn’t?” he asked sarcastically.

“You did not follow our plan. You tried to shoot Yeso when I told you not to do
anything
but get us there and then help us escape.”

“What did it matter if I shot him with a fireball or you stabbed him in the heart? He’s dead either way.”

Fatholl leaned back and lifted his chin as if greatly offended. “This was a matter between Elves and you never should’ve interfered.”

“Yet that is not the reason you planned to kill me when this was done,” Basen said. “You worry I’ll return. You’re just like Yeso, ready to kill others to protect yourself. That’s what we’re all doing now in this war, yet you’re the only one who refuses to believe it.”

Fatholl gave no reply. He turned to Sanya and announced, “We’re leaving.”

The Elves picked up their dead.

As they carefully walked off into the forest while eyeing Sanya’s weapon, Basen yelled after them, “You don’t have to worry about me returning to Merejic. Enjoy your little piece of Ovira without me, and I’ll enjoy mine without you!”

Fatholl ignored him. Basen desperately needed verification the Elf would leave him alone at the Academy, but it didn’t look like he would get it.

Vithos came to stand beside Basen, each of them facing Sanya. She dropped her weapon and hurried away from it. Once she’d created distance, she coughed for a while, then took a couple of deep breaths. After checking on the Elves one last time to see they were gone, she removed her mask.

Vithos pointed at her face. “I remember you from the castle.” His pointed finger swung to the weapon on the ground, the grass slowly blackening around it. “That was in the room you come from, yes?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?” Basen asked.

“I don’t know what to call it. I didn’t create it, but I am tasked with getting rid of it. I was going to use it on Yeso before removing it from this world, but I could only do that after I found the akorell metal in the Fjallejon Mountains. I felt you make a portal there a while ago, but I still couldn’t locate it.”

Basen crinkled his brow. “I’ve been wondering how my portals are affecting you.”

“Not at all anymore. In fact, the last one will help me put this back in the spiritual world where it belongs.”

“Back? So it came from there?”

“Yes, long before we were born. Ulric knew about it before coming to the castle—it doesn’t matter,” she interrupted herself.

“You’re right, it doesn’t. What does is why you wanted to kill Yeso and why you helped me.”

“I didn’t just help you. I saved your life,” she corrected.

“But why? I made portals after you threatened me not to. I hope you know, Sanya, that I only did what I needed to do. I didn’t want to harm your mother in any way, and I’m sorry for anything that happened to her.” He was careful not to apologize for perhaps forcing Sanya to kill Nick and Alex, for he could never live with himself if he took that blame. That was on her, and it would stay that way.

She looked surprised by his kind words for her mother. “What happened to her…was not your fault. I was able to keep her together against the damage of your portals, but in the end, I was meddling where I shouldn’t have.”