A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4) (30 page)

The guard seemed annoyed by this request. He kept his sword up as he told Abith, “I don’t think you have the authority to decide that.”

Why wouldn’t Abith have the authority to let Basen stay with him? There were no rules about going over the wall at this exact spot, so why was this circumstance special?

“Are you seriously going to throw him off the wall?” Abith asked with a light laugh. “Just let him be.”

“Fine.” The guard slammed his sword back in its sheath. “But I was against this.” He gave them no privacy as he stood still with his arms folded.

“Come down here, Basen,” Abith requested. He appeared happy to see Basen, but he always wore that proud smile.

Basen hopped down and had the strangest feeling they were about to duel. It wouldn’t matter that Basen had a real steel sword while Abith wielded a blunt one of wood. His former instructor could defeat him easily.
Abith probably could defeat two of me.

“You impressed me with your sword fighting.”

Unsure why Abith was waiting for him to respond, Basen rolled his eyes and shrugged. “I suppose you impressed me as well.”

Abith laughed. “You know, Basen, you’re the first mage I’ve met who’s like me.”

“A number of things can follow that observation. Not many are good, so I hope you’re not about to insult us both.”

Abith tilted his head down to give Basen a knowing look as he produced a wand with his other hand. “I speak of your ability to cast and cut.”

“Anyone can cut.” Basen sliced his sword down between them. “Anyone with fingers to grip a sword.”

“But not many of them can defend themselves against me as long as you did.” His smile returned as he stepped toward Basen aggressively. Basen quickly fixed his sword to defend himself. But Abith merely chuckled and stepped back. “See, it’s in you. If I’d known you were this kind of fighter, our training sessions would’ve been different.”

“And what kind of fighter is that?”

“The kind that you and I are. I watched you spar with the others when you were younger.” He looked unimpressed as he flattened his mouth and shook his head. “I didn’t see anything amazing, but you’ve improved a lot since then.”

“So has Sanya, yet I don’t hear you mentioning her. What are you getting at?”

“Sanya? Who in god’s world is that?”

That’s right, Abith hasn’t met the new Sanya.
Wait, they had to have met at some point in Tauwin’s castle. If not, he must at least remember her as an awful child in Tenred.

“Sanya Grayhart. Haven’t you heard about her?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, she’s dangerous.”

“So am I.” Abith lifted his eyebrows in mockery of the situation, clearly undeterred.

“It doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you. I’m here to improve.”

Basen stepped back and spread his arms. “Then let’s see how someone like you has learned to fight so well. Show me what you do to improve.”

Abith put up his finger as if about to give a lesson. “For some of us, fighting isn’t a skill to be learned. It’s something we inherently know and just have to refine. There are many capable men who find themselves to be good with both wand and sword at an early age. They choose to train in one skill, and soon they stop improving the other. But you and I have chosen both, and now we can use one to help train the other.”

It was Basen’s turn to smile. He’d figured Abith must use bastial energy for something more than making fireballs, and his former instructor had all but confirmed it.

“Show me a portal,” Abith blurted.

“What? Why?”

“Because I want to see it again.” There was frightening determination in his raspy voice and something about his eyes that made Basen nervous. Abith looked obsessed, as if he’d dreamed of making portals every night since Basen had done so in front of him.

“I can’t make one just anywhere,” Basen explained. He wasn’t sure he wanted to say more. If Abith learned to make portals, would it be safe for the Academy?

“Then where can you make one?”

“How about we focus on sword training instead.” Basen tried to distract Abith by lifting his blade to start a duel.

Abith didn’t lift his own weapon, so Basen came at him, but Abith still refused to move.

“Ha!” Basen feigned a strike at Abith’s stomach.

Looking bored, Abith swiped his arm in a flash and knocked Basen’s sword out of his hand.

“Oh.” Basen let his shoulders droop in disappointment as he retrieved his sword.

Abith frowned. “How am I supposed to shape you into the fighter I know you can be if you won’t trust me?”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to trust me while I don’t trust you?”

“Yes.”

He snatched up his sword and pointed it at Abith. “Except I’ve given you no reason to distrust me, while there are plenty of reasons to distrust you.”

“Interesting how you talk about distrust instead of trust.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t. You speak as if I’m supposed to trust you until you give me a reason not to. But you haven’t given me a reason to trust you. Don’t you see the difference?”

Basen had almost forgotten how attentive Abith was to detail. Of course Basen knew what Abith was talking about. Basen had made a point to phrase it exactly as he had.

Abith’s smile grew wider. “You thought I wouldn’t notice. You should know by now I notice everything. I also know you’re stalling about the portals.”

“I—”

Abith put up his hands. “You’re right—I
have
given you reasons to distrust me. It’ll take time for you to trust me as you once did. In the meantime, let me assure you I’m not asking about portals in hopes of making one myself. I need to know because we are allies, and I plan to use your skill to win this war.”

Basen believed Abith
did
have intentions of making portals, but that he also would use Basen’s skills to win the war. Abith had already betrayed Tauwin. There was no way the young king, as foolish as he was, would take Abith back. That made Abith and Basen allies, at least against Tauwin.

“A portal can be opened only where bastial energy has been gathered many times before.”

“How many times must bastial energy be gathered to make a portal?” Abith asked.

Of course he would be the only person to pose such a specific question.

“I don’t know.” Basen blew out a frustrated breath so Abith would know not to interrupt him with such silliness again. “A lot, but it depends on the amount. Probably hundreds of fireballs or a few massive surges of bastial energy. The portal can only lead to somewhere I’ve been before, where enough energy has been gathered over time. Those are the only facts I know. Everything else is theory.”

“Tell me of the theory.”

So Basen went on to explain portals as holes in “walls” that can’t be seen. When energy is gathered in one spot over time, it weakens the wall. Before he could say more, Abith interrupted him.

“What would happen if one of these walls breaks apart from too much gathered energy?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a portal would be created until the world rebuilt the wall.”

“Do you think a portal could become permanent?”

“It doesn’t seem possible. A portal is a gateway that needs stability. Whenever I’ve made one, I feel like I’m forcing open a door. The bigger the portal, the more difficult it is to keep it from closing. Small portals might be formed on their own from broken walls, but I would imagine they close so quickly we never see them.”

He didn’t want to say more, as soon the conversation would turn to akorell metal, and specifically the akorell stone Basen had in his room.

Terren’s voice surprised him from above. “Basen, what are you doing here?”

“I told him to leave, headmaster,” the wall guard said. “Abith argued for him to stay.”

What am I doing here…? What are YOU doing here?

“Throw him the rope,” the headmaster said to the guard, and the man tied one end around the parapets and tossed the other down. “Climb up, Basen.”

He looked at Abith, still trying to figure out what was going on. Abith shrugged. “Better do as the headmaster says.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Basen begrudgingly climbed up. He studied Terren and caught sight of the hilt of a training sword in the headmaster’s scabbard as Terren turned his hip to hide the weapon. Basen gasped, then let out a proud smile to show he knew exactly what he’d stumbled upon.

These two were enemies. Each man’s safety depended on the other’s death. They were only allies because Tauwin and Ulric’s massive armies had joined forces, and yet Terren and Abith had come here to spar. Of course it was in private, for if anyone found out, Terren’s judgment might be put into question. The instructors would certainly advise him against training with the man who meant to steal his job.

At the same time, Abith’s troops would look at him with raised eyebrows. He was their leader, and they expected him to lead the Academy one day, securing their futures in the process. To see Abith training with the current headmaster was akin to him accepting his rival as an equal, maybe even a friend.

Terren cursed. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Especially not your father.”

Of course, Henry was always the last to trust people. He wouldn’t agree with Terren’s choice to be here with Abith.

“I won’t,” Basen said, “but first tell me why you would train with each other?”

“Shall I remove him?” the annoying wall guard asked the headmaster.

“It’s fine,” Abith called up from below. “Tell him why,
headmaster
.” He spoke the title in a tone of both praise and jest, as if he were teasing an old friend.
This is not the first time they’ve trained together,
Basen realized.
They’ve come here often.

“It shouldn’t be hard to believe that the challenge of facing each other is worth the ramifications of anyone finding out,” Terren said as he got his long legs over the parapets and let himself down. He was about the same size as Cleve, towering over Abith as they faced each other. Terren then looked up at Basen as if trying to shoo him with his eyes.

Basen folded his arms. “I have to witness what I’m not supposed to tell anyone about.”

Terren sighed. “You’d better be as good at keeping this secret as you were about your secret plot with Fatholl.”

“I promise I will be.”

Abith tried to poke Terren in the ass while he wasn’t looking, but Terren noticed his enemy’s movement out of the corner of his eye and swiped his sword behind him. Suddenly, the two men were engaged in a fierce duel.

Abith’s attacks were quick and light while Terren’s were slower and more powerful. Basen had been taught that quickness always beats strength, but he found himself hoping that wasn’t the case as he watched Terren step away defensively.

It was concerning that neither wore a protective tunic, but Basen soon realized their skill prevented them from severe injuries. They knew how to protect themselves too well for a wooden sword to do permanent damage.

It only took a moment for Basen to see that Terren used the same techniques as Cleve. Both seemed to prefer blocking an attack rather than deflecting it, creating the opportunity to counterattack and surprise their opponents. Terren even began to sweat like Cleve, a ring of it on his chest like a necklace as his forehead glistened.

The headmaster surprised both Basen and Abith when he blocked Abith’s sword with his own, then jumped toward his opponent and delivered a kick to his chest.

Abith stumbled back two steps, though his composure didn’t break. He fought with more tenacity and speed as he came at Terren again. He spun around and smacked Terren in the side of his leg. Had it been a real blade, Terren would’ve been cut, though not deeply. Had it been his usual bastial steel sword, however, it might’ve sliced through to bone.

It was a clear point, but Basen had assumed the kick would’ve scored Terren a point as well, yet neither man stopped.

It didn’t take long for Abith to score a few more strikes. He won his points with grace, never reacting with a shout or a strut. A subtle smirk never left his face, though. Basen could see by their expressions that both men knew Terren was losing.

This only seemed to make him fight harder. Terren’s face took on a look of deep concentration as his mouth fell open. The only time it closed was when Abith made another strike against flesh. However, none were blows that would’ve led immediately to Terren’s death, even if done with a bastial steel sword. He could only catch Terren’s limbs, never his torso.

Eventually, Terren delivered his own strike, and it was nothing like Abith’s light pokes. The headmaster had finally gotten an offensive going, forcing Abith to dodge a downward strike, then a punch aimed at his chin. Terren was able to push him off balance before Abith could counterattack, and then followed up with a fierce jab of his sword into Abith’s unprotected stomach. It was hard enough to knock Abith down. He grunted in pain.