Bastial Frenzy (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 4) (16 page)

Cleve knew he couldn’t let Welson get away with murdering his parents, but he had no idea what course of revenge he would take and when.

“Cleve, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he answered, annoyed.

“Heed my words,” Rek warned. “No matter what happens, hold your tongue.”

They slept beneath the trees again that night. Rain hadn’t come, but the sun barely could be seen through the clouds. The air was so wet, Cleve figured it was only a matter of time.

He slept beside Rek again so they could share their warmth and blankets.

“The attack on Tenred must be over by now,” Rek muttered. “I wish we could’ve fought.”

“What are the chances that Reela was there?”

Rek was silent, making Cleve believe perhaps he didn’t hear the question.

“Rek?”

“I…I don’t know. Your guess would be as good as mine.”

“I thought you said only the third-year students would go?”

“Only they would be required to go. I’ve never spoken to Reela about fighting before. I can’t say what she would choose.”

“Well, I’m still thankful she didn’t come with us. I don’t believe the three of us would’ve even made it this far.”

“That’s for certain.”

They tried to sleep, but Cleve couldn’t get his mind off of Reela being in danger.

“I just hope she’s safe.”

He wanted Rek to say she was. He wanted the Elf to tell him that he could use psyche to sense that she was alive and well. Instead, Rek muttered, “Me as well.”

After changing Rek’s bandage, which was far bloodier than the day before, they rode south. They were to enter Kyrro from the east, the same way they’d left the territory. It was faster than riding through Corin Forest and then the Fjallejon Pathway. Although Rek did admit he was curious to see whether his cabin was still there.

The last time he was in it was months ago. Cleve was with him—sent there by the King to kill him. Cleve didn’t need to ask if Rek would’ve made the same decision to storm Welson’s castle after everything that had happened.
Of course he would’ve.

They rode for hours. It was difficult to tell the time, for the sun was shrouded by thick clouds of gray. Rain eventually started to fall.

“Are you cold?” Cleve asked. Rek had on only Cleve’s coat, while Cleve wore a shirt with long sleeves. He was a bit chilled himself.

“I’m fine,” Rek lied.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good so far.”

“Make sure you eat plenty,” Cleve said. “And drink lots of water.”

“We don’t have enough food for ‘plenty’ to be an option.”

“Then take as much as you’d like. I’ll be fine.”

To Cleve’s surprise, Rek didn’t object, and he was thankful for that.

Nulya was able to gallop nearly as fast with two men on her back as she had with one. But Cleve was afraid to push her. With Rek’s ankle, there would be no hope of getting him to Kyrro if something happened to Nulya. Cleve could only carry the Elf so far.

They rode the entire day. As the sky darkened, Cleve had Nulya at a slow trot. He dared ask a question to which he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“How tired is she?”

Rek pressed his palm against the horse’s side. “Extremely…hungry as well.”

“We’ll stop at those trees ahead.”

When Cleve helped Rek dismount, he noticed the Elf was shivering. Cleve felt his forehead. It was hot.

“I’m fine,” Rek said.

“Take my blanket and lie down. I’m going to hunt while there’s still light.”

“Do you even know how?”

“My father taught me.”

But night fell upon them too soon. Cleve found no animals save a few squirrels that ran before he could shoot. He was out of practice. It had been ten years, and he couldn’t remember the tricks his father taught him for finding game before it heard him coming.

I wonder what else I’ll forget as time goes on.
My father would still be here if it wasn’t for Welson.

Disparaged, Cleve at least found a circle of apple trees on his way back. There weren’t more than three in their prime. But he brought back ten; some he would save as they ripened and others that were so soft he wouldn’t feel right feeding them to Nulya. He would eat those himself.

He woke Rek and handed the three apples to him. “No feast tonight, but at least an alternative to bread and jerky.”

Rek struggled to sit up, groaning as he did. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“Eat at least one of them. I’ll give the other two to Nulya, and you can have more tomorrow.”

Cleve prepared a fire next. When it was lit, it was the only illumination Cleve could see no matter the direction he looked.

The trees somewhat protected them from the rain, and their blankets caught the few drops getting through. Rek was still shivering. It was only after Cleve lay down beside him and put his arm around his stomach that his shaking stopped.

By the time morning came and Cleve had awoken, Rek was shivering again. The rain had stopped, but everything was wet, the ground, their blankets, their clothes, even Nulya had to be miserable. Water drops clung to her mane.

Cleve started a fire, then asked Rek if he could check the wound.

“Is there even enough water to clean it?”

“For one more day, yes,” Cleve said. “I think we should.”

“And go without water until we reach Kyrro? No. Just leave the bandage.”

“At least let me look at your skin around it.”

Rek’s shaking became violent soon after Cleve helped him out of his coat. His skin was red and swollen around the blood-soaked bandage.

“It doesn’t look good.” Cleve felt his forehead. “I think you’re getting a fever.”

“Then let’s hurry.”

“First we need to warm up and dry our clothes.”

It looked like Rek was shaking his head, though it was difficult to tell with him shivering. “It’s going to start raining again,” Rek said. “We might as well ride.”

Dammit, he’s right.
Cleve didn’t know what to do to stop Rek from getting worse. It would still be two days before they arrived in Kyrro City.

“Here.” Cleve took off his shirt. “It’s only damp on the outside. Put it on.”

“I would laugh if I could. You’re going to ride like that into Kyrro?” He pointed at Cleve’s bare chest.

It took all of Cleve’s strength not to wrap his arms around himself. “I’m not cold.”

“And I’m not stupid, Cleve. I don’t need psyche to tell that’s a complete lie.”

Anger started twisting in his chest. “Just take the damn shirt. I’m not going to wear it anymore.”

Rek grumbled, taking it in silence.

It wasn’t long after they started riding that Cleve wondered why they hadn’t brought Rek’s clothing scraps. He could’ve at least wrapped them around his torso and over his shoulders, and the sleeves were still intact. Even stained by Rek’s blood, Cleve would’ve traded the rest of his food for the ripped garment…at least in that moment, for he wasn’t hungry. But the hunger came later, almost the same moment rain began to fall, and he realized he would’ve regretted the trade.

Soon, both of them were shivering.

Every time Cleve saw shelter, like a tree or a ledge along a hillside, he’d find himself turning Nulya toward it. But then he remembered Evon telling him not to stop. He needed to get Rek to the chemists in Kyrro City, and waiting for the rain to end wasn’t an option.

He began to think of nothing but the urge for warmth. He felt every cold drop of water hitting his neck and shoulders, running down his back. His hair fell in front of his face, dripping. But the wind that came later turned out to be his worst enemy. He cursed it under his breath every time it stormed through him and chilled his bones.

It was a little more than a week ago that he’d awoken in Reela’s bed, touched by sunlight. So blissfully warm. The thought reignited his determination.

There will be an end to this misery.

Rek’s grip was loose around Cleve’s stomach. He mostly leaned forward, resting his chin on Cleve’s shoulder. It rattled with his shivering, and his arm shook as well. But it did well to protect Cleve’s back from the rain. The only wetness that reached him dripped down from Rek’s long hair.

“Damn this rain.” It was the first Rek had spoken in a while.

“Eat something.” Cleve handed him his bag. “Take an apple and some bread. Drink some water with it.”

“The bread’s soaked through.”

“Then you won’t need as much water” was all Cleve could say.

When the rain finally stopped, it was too dark to tell where they were. Cleve would’ve risked riding farther, but there was no moonlight to guide them.

“We’ll rest here.”

“Where is here?” Rek asked, still shivering.

“All I know is we’ve been riding southwest toward Kyrro. Hopefully we can reach it by tomorrow.”

“How I wish you were a mage right now.”

Cleve knew what Rek was referring to. They needed a fire. With it, they could dry their clothes and warm their bodies. But without a mage, Cleve didn’t have enough light to gather what was needed to make one. He couldn’t see farther than his outstretched arm.

Cleve lifted Rek off the saddle. “Can you put weight on your ankle now?”

“Somewhat.” Cleve let him down. “But I feel weak.” Rek clasped Cleve’s shoulder for balance.

Even through his shoes, Cleve could feel the grass was saturated with water. They couldn’t rest here.

“We need to find somewhere dry. Let me carry you.”

Rek didn’t object, so Cleve scooped him up. “Hold Nulya’s reins as I look around.”

Rek used his one good hand to drag Nulya after them as Cleve trudged forward. Fearful of bumping into a tree or tripping over a rock, Cleve’s pace was about the speed of a crawl. There seemed to be grass everywhere. For all Cleve knew, it could be wet grass for miles in every direction.

Rek was tall and certainly not light. Cleve couldn’t carry him more than twenty steps without setting him down on his feet for a break. His shoulders ached. His arms burned. He could feel hope being sucked out of his body.

Depression hit hard. All seemed lost.

“Cleve, I can feel what you’re feeling.” Rek’s voice was faint. “But we’ll get through this. Don’t give up. Just put both blankets on the grass and we’ll sleep on top.”

His words helped until Cleve realized something he needed to check. Panic took over.

“Wait,” he said, setting Rek down and reaching into their other bag to check on their folded blankets.

The bag itself was just as wet as their food bag, but the inside of it was dry…and so were their blankets.

Cleve felt relief flow through his chest as he let out his breath. Then he had an idea. “I think we should risk folding one blanket to lie on and use the other to cover ourselves. We can fit if we press together. Then if the bottom blanket gets too wet, we can put the top one underneath us.”

“That’s a fine idea, but just be careful of my shoulder.”

“It hurts?”

“Yes, like a dog’s teeth is ripping apart my flesh. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to sleep. But I must lie down. My legs feel weak.”

Cleve knelt down to sweep away as much water as he could before placing a folded blanket on the ground. He eased Rek onto it, the poor Elf groaning in pain.

Cleve had nowhere to tie his horse.

“Rek, can you use psyche to tell Nulya to stay here and rest?”

“I’ll try. Bring her here, so I can touch her leg as I do it. It’ll make it easier.”

Cleve followed Rek’s voice, easing Nulya closer until Rek said he had her.

“There,” Rek muttered, his voice becoming a whisper. “I can’t even keep my eyes open. If it rains tomorrow…” But he didn’t finish his sentence.

Cleve maneuvered to lie beside Rek. There was hardly any warmth coming from the Elf’s body.

Cleve wasn’t completely on the blanket, the wet grass prodding his back. He reached his hand over Rek to see how much extra blanket he had, but Rek was already on its edge.

Shivering, Cleve closed his eyes and took several slow breaths.

The slumber that came was fitful. He awoke too many times to count. So many that—when morning came—he wondered if he’d been awake more than asleep. His body ached from cold. It felt as if his bones were made of ice and they were quickly freezing the rest of his muscles.

As he sat up, Cleve realized it wasn’t so much morning as it was twilight. The clouds had parted, and he could see the moon. It shined, giving the beads of water on the damp blanket over him and Rek a hue of silver. He could see Nulya had folded her legs and was asleep on the grass. He hoped she wasn’t too cold.

Rek was breathing heavily. He murmured something unintelligible. The sound of it frightened Cleve, for it was nothing close to any word he could recognize. He touched Rek’s forehead. It was hotter than before. His fever was worsening.