by C. J. Aaron
Where her hand met his arm, the markings of his tattoo shifted. The twisting vines and leaves moved to accommodate space for her hand to rest. The arboreal pattern covered her fingers, slowly weaving up her forearm as well.
“This is what the Erlyn Woods showed me,” she whispered, bringing her head close to his. Every moment her hand lingered on his arm, the energy surged through his body.
“You are the catalyst, Ryl,” she whispered. “You have brought the wind needed to steer them in the right direction. There is still more for you to do. They need your light to hold back the darkness that surrounds us all.”
Kaep’s image faltered slightly as her hand remained connected to his arm. The energy continued to flow into him. His body swelled with a power he could scarcely contain. Ryl caught the hint of movement from the periphery of his vision.
He turned his head toward the broken cliff, toward the black sun that stole the color, the life from the crumbling hills. The landscape to the right, beneath the broken crags of the ragged mountains, swarmed with the blackened bodies of the Horde. Ryl flinched at the sight, yet the expected emotion, the hatred, raw and unfiltered, was absent. The demons stood in place, their lanky bodies swaying side to side gently as if pushed by the same wind that jostled his cloak. They watched patiently; their eyes curious.
Kaep’s figure flickered as the opacity faded. A faint green glow began to shimmer, highlighting the outline of her body.
Ryl panicked as the details of her form began to fade from view. In places, the soft green glow was all that remained. He tried to pull his arm away, yet she was bound to him.
“Fear not. I will be with you always, Ryl,” she continued. “Let me be your light, your voice of reason when the darkness clouds your way.”
His eyes turned to her, staring into the large hazel orbs that met his gaze. There was a note of profound sadness, yet a sense of relief filled her eyes.
“You are the catalyst.” Her voice was little more than a breath on the wind. “You are the fulcrum between light and dark.”
Ryl reached for her, trying desperately to pull her fading frame to his body. His hand passed through her form as if it wasn’t there.
Kaep smiled.
“You are their hope.” Her voice was nothing but a whisper in his head. “Until we meet again, Ryl.”
She leaned in close, planting a tender kiss on his cheek. The energy that accompanied the gentle touch was overwhelming. Ryl gritted his teeth as the power streamed into his body. Kaep’s body disappeared into the nothingness of the nexus. His vision faded as the blinding whiteness overwhelmed his senses.
Chapter 52
Ryl’s eyes snapped open.
The blinding light that had swelled around his body cleared, resolving into the dramatic view he’d recently departed. He’d expected the incoming charge of the Lei Guard to run him to ground.
The black-cloaked warriors were stalled in their approach as time remained frozen.
He expected to see Kaep.
He stood alone in the center of the courtyard.
Kaep was gone.
The hollow weakness that had overcome his body only moments earlier had vanished. He felt rejuvenated. His energy felt limitless. The throbbing pain that pulsed from his left arm again had faded. The origin of the light seemed to now be emanating from his body. The entirety of his frame burned with a blinding light. He felt the alexen course through his veins, raging with an unbearable power that far surpassed his norm.
The sphere of white light swelling from his body expanded outward. The blinding aura spread out over the courtyard, swallowing the Lei Guard under its influence. Ryl screamed as the power exploded from him. He felt the massive release. The shock wave rippled outward, tossing the Lei Guard from their feet. His body quivered as the energy rushed from him, spreading out over the surrounding square,
As quickly as it had erupted, the sphere of light contracted, drawing the energy back to its source. The force of the recoil knocked him backward. He balanced his body, falling to a single knee as he was thrust by the might.
Ryl’s scream carried on long past the diffusion of the blast. The voices that accompanied his cries of agony, of pain, of desperation were absent from his voice. Whether they had been the voices of phrenics long past, or the rage of the Horde, they were silent. His emotion dwarfed them all. It was his voice, and his alone, that cried out. His long, pathetic, agonized scream breached the silence of midday.
The impact of the energy returning to its source, to him, had left him reeling. The weight pressed him backward and into the ground. His shoes left streaks on the ground where he had slid across the stone.
Prior to Kaep’s touch, his body had been both mentally and physically exhausted. She had propped him up. Her energy had electrified his withered body. It coursed through him, animating the alexen in his veins.
His left arm felt heavy, almost detached from the rest of his sensation. The blazing sun tattooed around the joint of his elbow was clouded with a myriad of black streaks. Thousands of individual black stains blended together as they sought to blot out the sun.
He could feel the darkness that infested his arm. The vicious whisper of hatred, agony, of wanton destruction and death surged into his mind. They struck with a ferocity he’d not expected.
As it sought for control of his mind, a hint of emotion rippled through his opposite arm. He cast a curious glance down at the location, startled to see the alteration of the vine tattoo. A handprint remained where Kaep’s hand had rested on his arm. Blended into the vines and leaves that wrapped around his skin, it fit perfectly into the design as if it had been purposefully created with it in mind.
Ryl rubbed his left hand over the fresh marking. A jolt of energy greeted his touch. A whisper of emotion registered.
It was hope.
He felt the spark race up his arm. It crossed his chest, exploding through his body when it reached his heart. The foreign cries of hatred vanished. The lingering sense of warmth remained for a moment, faint yet recognizable.
It was her aura he recognized.
It was Kaep.
Ryl turned his eyes to the courtyard before him. The Lei Guard remained still where they had fallen. Their black cloaks spread out around them, creating a sea of darkness that coated the ground. Behind their ranks, the army of the Horde remained.
They stood frozen in place. Their focus was singular. They stared at Ryl with cautious attentiveness, as a servant watches their master. As he stepped forward, their steadfast line faltered. With every step they retreated further.
Ryl stopped at the body of the first Lei Guard he reached. He knelt along its side, watching carefully for a moment. The steady rise and fall of its chest was visible. The breaths were gentle as if in the grips of a deep slumber. He slowly peeled back the black hood that covered its eyes.
The face that greeted him was peaceful. He looked upon the figure of a woman. Though older than he, her face was familiar. He felt the hint of recognition, though he had likely never seen her before. The snarl of hatred had vanished from her lips. Ryl watched as her eyelids batted as the dreams raged through her dreaming mind.
Ryl scanned the bodies nearby, searching for one in particular. Still dressed in the ill-fitting borrowed clothing, Elias stood out from the Lei Guard around him. He rushed to his friend’s side, his cautious optimism fading as he closed in on his still form.
Elias lay facedown on the stone. His clothes were in tatters. Clean slashes tore through the cloth, biting deep into the skin below. Blood soaked the fabric, matting it to his skin. He knelt at his friend’s side, gently rolling his limp body over. There was no motion to his chest. Ryl knew he was no more.
The tears welled in his eyes as he viewed Elias’s lifeless form. The agony of losing his friend to the Harvest had never abated. The elation as they had been reunited was marred by the sting of betrayal and his failure. The grief was overpowering. Tears streamed down his face, splashing to the ground at his feet. Th
ere they mixed with the pool of crimson that soaked the ground.
Though life no longer existed in his body, Elias’s face presented a haunting reminder of the young man Ryl considered a brother. The mischievous grin that had been so natural, seemingly ever present, once again graced his face.
Ryl closed his eyes, temporarily stopping the tears that flowed. He bowed his head, resting his hand gently on his friend’s forehead. He inhaled a deep, steadying breath.
“Thank you, my friend. My brother,” he whispered between sobs.
In the end, it had been Elias’s action that had saved them all. One final, potent stunt before the gates that had come to define their lives.
From behind him, there was a low rumble as the drawbar slid back from the massive door. The hinges creaked in protest. The sound of rapid footsteps grew as the curious poured from the gate.
A wet gurgling sound issued from the ground near the king’s carriage. Ryl moved cautiously toward the source. Lying on his back, slightly propped up against the unconscious body of a Lei Guard, Leiroth gasped for breath. The black hood had been blown back, revealing a face, ancient and racked with pain. He coughed a single wet cough as Ryl approached. A splatter of blood spewed from his mouth, the sticky remnants staining his chin.
Blood pumped steadily from the gaping wound in his chest. His hands, coated in crimson mixed with streaks of black, pressed against the weeping hole in his body. His lifeblood streamed through the gaps between his fingers. Around him, a swelling pool of deep red swirled with stains of black.
Ryl could feel none of the awe-inspiring power that had oozed from his body. No emotion pumped from his core, though his expression was telling. His eyes screamed with pain.
With fear.
With desperation.
As Leiroth blinked, Ryl watched his eyes rack as they shifted focus. His blood-soaked right hand reached up from the gash in his chest. The black cloak on his arm slid down, revealing the bloodstained evidence of complex tattoos below. Unstoppered, the blood rushed from his chest like a river.
“A transference,” Leiroth gasped through gargled breaths. Blood splattered from his mouth. Dark crimson stained with streaks of black.
Ryl looked down on the ancient phrenic before him. He had been awakened once. Craving power that was never his to bear, he’d turned against his own. Ages of torture, death and corruption followed his actions. Ryl listened for the alexen inside.
There was nothing but chilling silence.
Ages of torture and death rested on his head. Forgiveness would not be granted. They had accepted what would become.
“Your sins die with you, Leiroth,” Ryl whispered. “Your tainted legacy ends today.”
The blade in his right hand burst to light in a wash of green fire. With a single slash, the weapon severed Leiroth’s hand.
There would be no transference of power.
The shock on Leiroth’s face blanched to a look of pure horror. Ryl watched the remaining life fade from his eyes. The dying phrenic gargled as he attempted to find the words to express himself.
Ryl turned away, walking toward the carriage. His body flooded with a mixed set of emotions. He was relieved, yet he experienced no joy taking life. The awful knot in his stomach threatened to release the churning contents.
The door of the carriage had swung wide open. Jostled by the breeze, the black-painted door thumped as it clicked against the side of the wagon. The interior of the king’s carriage was dim, lit only by a single lantern. The flame flickered as it burned low, splashing its light on the crimson fabric that covered the padded interior. Flickers of light sparked off the jewels sewn into the material. Strips of gold framed the modest window on the opposite side.
Slumped against the far wall was the king. His body was shriveled, barely more than a skeleton wrapped in voluptuous, ornately adorned finery. His face was haunting. His eyes were sunken deep into his skull, his skin shriveled and cracked. The low, flickering light cast deep, heavy shadows, highlighting the severe, bony features of the corpse.
The gift of a life extended far beyond natural means had been removed. The power, stolen from the countless lives he’d seen enslaved and tortured, had been reclaimed. The blessing that had maintained his existence became his curse.
King Lunek the Third was dead.
Ryl stepped back, closing the door to the black carriage. The approach of footsteps from behind stopped as they reached his side. To his right, Andr stood, one hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. The other patted Ryl on the shoulder. Ramm and Vox paused off his opposite side. Though their eyes were shadowed, he met their gazes. They nodded subtly. Vox handed him the second of the Leaves he’d dropped in the courtyard.
He stowed the dormant blade as the wind swelled around his right arm. With the single blade in his right hand still burning with green fire, he slashed at the black carriage. The wind released, carrying with it a gout of flame. The fire splashed outward as it struck the carriage. Within moments, the entirety of the wagon was aflame.
A funeral pyre for a king.
“What of the Horde, Ryl?” It was Andr’s voice that broke the silence.
Ryl scanned the area. From the north, the glowing signatures of the phrenics approached from the palisade. To the south, the line of Horde shifted. He let the burning blade in his right hand go dormant before stowing the innocuous stick in its holster behind his back.
He closed his eyes, concentrating on the darkness that scarred the sun emblazoned on his left arm. The momentary stab of pain was tremendous, yet it quickly faded to little more than a memory.
Ryl glanced at his arm as he opened his eyes once more. The shades of light and dark had inverted once again, yet the reach of the blackness had grown. Little of his hand now remained unmarked by streaks of darkness.
His eyes burned with fury as he met the line of the demons. They wavered under his glare. He focused his thoughts on the monochromatic red hue of the jagged landscape they called home. He hammered them with a sense of urgency. A sense of panic.
Ryl took a single purposeful step forward. The emotion poured from his body.
Their line broke.
He could feel their presence moving. Moving westward. The blackened shadows receded at a dizzying pace.
Ryl glanced to his sides. The carriage was fully engulfed in flame. A thick plume of black smoke billowed into the sky. To his opposite side, his body contorted into a gruesome pose, Leiroth’s withered corpse remained. Like the king, his form had shriveled as the ravages of time caught up with him. His mouth was open, locked into a soundless scream.
“It was Leiroth who was corrupted, and by his command, the tainted Lei Guard they feared,” Ryl stated. “Among their peers they respect power. Nothing more.”
He flexed his left arm, watching as the swirling mass shifted as he squeezed his fist.
“What happened to you?” Paasek asked as he hobbled up to the group, standing among the still bodies of the Lei Guard. “You’ve vanished from my sight. Again.”
“Aye, my friend,” Ryl acknowledged as he strode toward the retreating mass of Horde. “I’ve become what the prophecy has foretold. And more.”
He turned, scanning the palisade. The guards were shaken. Vigil assisted the guards from Cadsae Proper and those of House Eligar as they sought to regain their footing. Some nursed wounds, as the blast had rocked them from their feet. His eyes paused as his vision met with Le’Dral and Fay in turn.
“The kingdom will need the phrenics of old,” Ryl added. “They will need support. They will need council. There’s a history they have yet to learn and a future that will be brighter tomorrow than today. There will be much to do to right the wrongs of generations. Worry not about the Horde. Lead the tributes to Vim. The way will be clear.”
Ryl turned his eyes to the remains of Cadsae Proper. The shadow of the Horde that covered the city streets moved to the west with haste. The vast sea of darkness retreated like the water of an ebbing tide.
> There was a commotion among the king’s army to the east. Fighting had broken out in the vanguard as the soldiers fell upon the Lei Guard who’d held them in thrall. Ryl watched as one after another they were pulled from their horses, overwhelmed by the staggering numbers.
No longer sealed into ranks by the fear of reprisal, the army churned with activity. Many dispersed, rushing toward the remains of the East Ward, where the fire still raged out of control. Some fled to the west, throwing down their arms.
None were pursued.
“The Horde retreat as if they’re scared,” Andr commented. “They run from something.”
Ryl nodded his head as he met eyes with his friend.
Leiroth was a crucial piece to the misery that had enveloped his early life. The king was another. With their deaths, that life was now at a close.
A new journey lay ahead.
“They fear me. For I am part of them,” Ryl said. “The prophecy has guided the actions leading to today. There is no longer a need for a catalyst. The fires of change are beyond extinguishing. They have been secured by the defiance of Vim.”
Ryl grinned as he looked at Paasek.
“As much as I am phrenic, so too am I the Horde.” He added. “I am the fulcrum. “
“The balance will be restored.”
FROM THE PUBLISHER
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