by C. J. Aaron
Across the table, Averine seemed almost giddy with excitement as his face was revealed. The old man appeared primed to spring across the table at a moment’s notice. If he wasn’t convinced of the sincerity and altruistic nature of the eclectic man, he’d have likely given him a very wide berth.
“The fire was my doing, I’m afraid,” Ryl responded. “Assassins. Hunters. Whatever name they go by had laid the trap. It was young Hobs who paid the price. None survived. I left word with Millis to collect his body and their horses.”
Le’Dral shook his head as he lowered his gaze to the table. He slammed his fist against the wood.
“That makes the fourth death in as many days,” the captain growled. “I’m comforted that you look to have made it out unscathed. The detail assigned to workers in the fields to the north of Thayers Rest ran down a pair who openly attacked the workers. Were you able to glean any information from the hunters?”
“As expected, there are bounties on all of our heads.” Ryl nodded as he replied. “The blame was directed not at one single individual. It seems we’ve made enemies of any who’ve received the Blessing of the King, or with aspirations of power. Not that the disclosure comes with any surprise.”
“In this room, there have been well over a dozen assassination attempts,” Fay interjected; his voice rang with a note of severity. “They have to this point failed, yet we only delay the inevitable. Allies must be chosen and chosen well. We must all be diligent, though we cannot remain locked indoors, hidden behind walls forever. You must be careful, Ryl.”
He was touched by the sentiment from the seasoned captain. He largely agreed with the estimation. A ruler who chose to remain secured behind the defensive walls of his stronghold invoked little confidence. It was this weakness, the doubt instilled, that those who worked to counter them sought. Yet it wasn’t for his own life he was concerned. Ryl was at peace with his own mortality. It was not the blade of man he feared.
Though he was remarkably unconcerned for his own well-being, it was the men in this room, his trusted companions and friends, whom he feared for the most. Would there be an end to the constant distress? Ryl longed for all to feel the blissful calm of true freedom.
Much as he sought the feeling himself.
Even hidden inside the security of Vim, there had always been a weight to his life. Purpose stood in the way of true freedom. Though his will, his actions were his own, he felt bound by the duty to right wrongs that had been heaped up over generations. The alexen in his veins screamed for justice. The scales had shifted, moving closer to level, though there was much still to be done.
Le’Dral rose from his seat, stretching as he began pacing the narrow gap between the chairs and the wall.
“The king, though traitorous as he was, died while assaulting our force. The bounties are expected. We exist in a state of constant threat. It’s much the same as we’ve heard,” the captain offered. “Much as we anticipated. We cannot guard everyone here. The loyalties of most whom we have under arms have never been truly tested. How many hunters waited for you today?”
“Twenty,” Ryl replied. “They’d set up camp north of the trees. They’ve likely been hiding there for days.”
“They mean to sow the seeds of distrust. To tear the fragile union apart through fear and doubt.” The rumbling voice sounded from Ryl’s right. The table groaned as Paasek leaned forward on his elbows. “Those freed from the Harvest, those you call tributes, are safe. Phrenics commune with the woods. None will reach where they reside. The Vigil will suffer no failure in guarding the few who leave the confines to man the orchards.”
Ryl was comforted to hear from the phrenic. Though the man had recused himself from the position of councilor, his knowledge, his experiences and tutelage were invaluable. He feared not for his fellow tributes. The Erlyn would tolerate no intruders.
A stinging pang of regret rolled through his body. He had yet to see his friends since leaving in pursuit of Kaep. They had been incapacitated by the remedy that had rendered them unconscious. All save Aelin, that is. The boy had followed him, nearly costing him his life multiple times in the process.
“I hear little news of their progress from my outpost. How have they recovered?” Ryl inquired. It was a daily regret not to be there for them as they first experienced and learned to explore the wonders of the alexen in their blood.
“They are all well. Many have been on their feet for weeks.” Paasek grinned. “Their recovery was speedy. As expected, most have taken to instruction with ease. Andr has been running them through basic weapons drills while I’ve been leading their emotional and historical education. The mender has demanded they be given instruction in his craft as well.”
Ryl nodded his head in acknowledgment. They would be well prepared when they began the trek to Vim.
“What of the Lei Guard?” he inquired.
Ryl noted a flash of emotion register across the phrenic’s face. The hint of concern vanished before he spoke.
“The process has been daunting,” the phrenic intoned. “The last arrived less than a week ago. “There are now more than two thousand suspended from the trees inside the woods. The sight is a chilling one to see.”
Ryl saw the gooseflesh swell over his exposed, tattooed arm.
“None had been released from the Erlyn’s care when we departed the day before last,” he continued. “Those you rescued from the facility too share an uncertain fate. Their words are few. Their movements are sluggish. Their glow is faint. A hint of the alexen remains, yet they seemingly hold no command over it.”
The admission was unsurprising, yet it pained Ryl to hear nonetheless. Had he truly saved them by removing them from the facility? He fretted over their addled minds. Had they been broken beyond repair by the devious machinations of the king’s menders?
Had he done nothing more than doom them to a life of continued misery?
The questions added to the increasingly potent doubts that plagued his head. There was no telling what course their lives would take, what capacities they would regain. Though the internal conflict roiled in his gut, in his heart he believed the decision was right. He would not give up on them.
Uncertainty clouded his thoughts. Were they too far gone? Could they turn on them as Elias had done?
“In truth, they are the reason that we’ve come to Cadsae,” Paasek continued. “Your presence is required in the Erlyn for a time. Ramm, Taq and Rhoane will maintain the watch in your stead.”
Ryl repressed a smile as Paasek rendered the decision. The fact that there had been no complaints from the others in the room confirmed that this had been likely discussed in detail prior to his arrival. Though he was pleased to have a break from the cramped confines of the tower and the monotony of the perpetual watch, he struggled with apprehension at his departure.
The phrenics were uniquely capable. They would hold account for themselves no matter what manner of abominations the Outlands or the kingdom chose to throw at them. Yet it was not they whom the Horde feared.
Whom the Horde had obeyed.
There had been no sightings of the blackened beasts since their hasty retreat. Ryl had seen no signs of their shadowed forms in his mindsight. The weight of their darkness, the gravity that their masses had conveyed was nothing more than a memory. Would they return? Would they sense that he was no longer manning his position if he were absent for any extended period of time?
“I see the look in your eyes, my friend.” The voice registered from across the table. Fay smiled at Ryl as he spoke.
“None have an answer to if or when the beasts may return,” Lord Eligar stated. “We cannot keep you holed up in that tower forever, now can we? From what you’ve said, they were drawn the last time by a force not of your own. It was the king who brought them here. It was Leiroth who commanded them to lay waste to the city. For the time being, we have concerns closer at hand that are far more pressing.”
“Aye. The nobles have finally seen fit to stake their cl
aim over Cadsae Proper and The Stocks,” Le’Dral intoned. He tossed a rolled parchment across the table. Ryl opened it, scanning the contests as the captain continued.
“It seems that the lords of this land have settled their petty differences and squabbling for power for the moment to pardon us for our treasonous acts. On condition, of course,” Le’Dral stated matter-of-factly. “They will forgive us for our actions against the kingdom at the cost of fealty and once again control of The Stocks.”
“Another farce. They actively block our access to provisions. To supplies, funds and reinforcements,” Fay interjected. “There will be no mercy. They will execute every one of us as traitors to the kingdom. They will hunt the tributes with a ferocity never before seen.”
“Greed has motivated these nobles for generations. Do we possess the resources to provision the supplies needed?” Paasek inquired.
“Aye. The absurd level of opulence inside this chamber alone would feed the inhabitants of The Stocks for more than a moon,” Le’Dral grumbled. “That would be in normal times, I’m afraid. The council of lords, the sycophants of the late king, have determined to squeeze us. Goods from outside these walls have become scarce. The prices from those who would sell have increased nearly tenfold. Most won’t even consider the transaction as a result of threats to their own well-being. The nobles vie for the leadership of a kingdom. I’m afraid the money will not suffice.”
“Will our supplies last until the first of the crops are ready for harvest?” Ryl inquired.
Le’Dral responded with a pensive nod. “Aye. I believe so, though strict rations will need to be enforced,” he added. His eyes travelled to the others in the group, pausing as he met them in turn.
“They are afraid to lose control.” Ryl spoke up. “The Stocks harbors the resources they need as well. The crops have long gone to the kingdom. The loss of their precious tributes will sting. They mean to squeeze us, yet we can apply pressure of our own.”
Ryl surveyed the faces of those present. He stopped his gaze on Lord Eligar.
“We’ll enforce a blockade of our own,” Ryl offered. “No tribute will leave The Stocks against their own volition. If they mean to bring us to our knees by force, that will require iron. Halting any metal exports from House Eligar will get their attention. Nearly all the precious ore comes from but a handful of veins that reside in your lands. Fay, could your house afford the delay in production?”
Fay took a moment to ponder the information. To consider the option.
“Aye. Ryl, we are self-sufficient, to a point.” His answer was apprehensive. Cautious.
“My lands are well fortified, and we have long planned contingencies to consolidate our citizens in the eventuality the other noble houses choose to wage open war,” he acknowledged. “With my forces divided, the defenses have been reduced significantly. We will hold for a time, yet not indefinitely.”
Ryl rapped his fingers on the table as he thought for a moment. His eyes met with Averine’s focused stare. A flash of understanding sparkled in the depths of his wide orbs. At that moment, Ryl understood the eccentric old man.
“Fay, your house has sacrificed much as a result of your compassion. You’ve sworn to protect your people, yet I cannot bear the thought of more innocents losing their lives for this gamble.” Ryl’s concern was genuine. Fay and his soldiers had willingly risked everything for his cause. For the cause of righteousness. For a young man only a few had ever even seen. Lord Eligar opened his mouth to retort, yet Ryl stopped him with a wave of his hand.
“Send the kingdom a message,” he added. “Force their hands. They’ll leave your lands unmolested, or you’ll seal off the mines for a generation,” Ryl added.
“What? Seal the mines?” Le’Dral interrupted. “I’ve seen what the phrenics can do, yet it’s a long ride to Cantros from here. From the reports we’ve received, the Kingsway is overrun with the remainder of the armies of the kingdom.
Ryl grinned across the table at Averine. Lord Eligar nodded his head in somber approval.
“Our young friend here has provided the spark.” Averine chuckled as he spoke. “It requires only a word to light the fuse.”
From beside the captain, Cavlin let out a short laugh. He stifled the uncontrolled response, attempting to disguise the wince of pain.
“If the rumor stands, Averine once wired his mines to hold sway over your family,” Ryl noted as his focus landed on Lord Eligar. “He threatened to destroy them should any submit to the Deliverance. They wouldn’t happen to still be wired today?”
The old man nodded feverishly.
“And they can be destroyed with but a word. Our young lord took my example to heart, if I’m not mistaken,” he added.
Fay closed his eyes for a moment as he nodded once again. His acknowledgment came after a moment of consideration. The weight of his decision was profound. Its impact could define the fortunes of his house, lingering for generations.
“We could seal them off for decades should we choose,” the young lord agreed. “Whether idle threat or a reality, it is a path Hose Eligar will walk with you.”
“Thank you, my friends,” Ryl added as he let a wave of satisfaction flow from his core. “The plan is reckless, yet should suffice to hold back a full-scale invasion of your lands. Captain, how long were we granted to respond?”
“Fourteen days,” he answered.
The timing was short. Even with the swiftest of horses, a ride to Cantros would take weeks.
“Unless the kingdom or other houses are already moving against your lands, it will take weeks to muster and march a sufficient force,” Ryl continued. “It’s past time for some of your soldiers to return home to shore up your defenses.”
Fay’s mouth shot open at the comment; however, again Ryl pressed on before he could retort.
“From all accounts, the Kingsway is blocked. How fares the Sea of Prosper?” Ryl inquired.
“The few fishermen who’ve tempted the waters have reported seeing masts on the horizon, though none have been spotted in days,” Le’Dral answered.
Fay’s eyes lit as he sat forward in his chair. “We’ve committed to providing the arms you need here, yet the bolstered numbers at home would not go unappreciated. It would no doubt lessen the strain on the rations that will need to be enforced here,” the lord added. “With little activity on the Sea of Prosper, we could likely muscle through a blockade if needed. The Isle of Mattume answers to my call. From there it would be an easy passage to my lands.”
Fay’s vision wandered the room as he made the calculations in his head. “Nearly five days to Leremont. Another to the Isle,” he muttered to himself. “It would take a little over a week to complete the voyage.”
They had been given an abbreviated timeline to render their decision. Both sides likely understood which option the other would pursue. The capital, whichever house now held the seat of power, would be consolidating power. They knew their tenuous position inside The Stocks would soon breed contempt. Theirs was a post they couldn’t hope to hold forever. Though they were free, being trapped inside the walls was not a station many would abide long term.
“There is a fine line that we must walk,” the captain added. “Though our actions may be the best we can hope for, the division runs rampant through our meager city. You know as well as any that loyalties among the population, among the army that answers to my command are not exclusive. There are more than enough who seek to sow confusion and contempt. Sabotage is well within their grasp. Murder is oftentimes their preferred method. The longer we shelter behind these walls, the more this division will grow.”
A message could be sent. House Eligar could stave off destruction for the time being. They could survive here between the walls, yet the proposition was chilling.
“They grow bolder by the day,” Le’Dral added. “There is little surprise that the attempt on your life arrives on the same day as the missive.”
This would not be living.
Merely sur
viving was not living.
Change had come to their tiny corner of the kingdom, yet the winds that had seemed so prevalent had died to a whisper. The spark that threatened to light the kingdom ablaze was being choked out by the remnants of the stain of the nexela. The tainted Blessing and greed still ruled Damaris.
“This blockade is as much a means of preventing goods from entering as it is information from getting out,” Ryl intoned. “They fear the truth that lies within these walls. We exist in a secluded corner of the kingdom, yet the surge, the wave that remains bottled up behind these walls, yearns for release.”
Ryl looked at Fay. He knew the young lord longed for the comforts of his home. The adventure was thrilling for a time, though it would likely get old. His men, loyal as they were, had survived what they had expected to be a death sentence. Thoughts of their homes, the ones who were left behind grew stronger by the day as the thrill and threat of battle turned into idleness.
He grinned as he looked around the room at those gathered around him. Phrenics. Nobleman. Captain. Mercenary. Eccentric.
“The spark of hope has survived a millennium under far more toxic conditions,” Ryl growled. “The truth turned convert into believer. Word of the Harvest will have traveled the length of the kingdom by now. Though it will be skewed, news of the Horde, the massacre of Cadsae Proper and the death of the king are common knowledge. Until the lords, those corrupted by the Blessing of the King have been silenced, progress will be stifled at every turn.”
“How do you suppose we change that?” Le’Dral inquired. “We haven’t the force to storm the great houses. Bloodshed on that scale would ill suit our purpose. We tread a slippery slope, stooping to the same clandestine tactics that have been employed upon us day after day.”
Ryl nodded his head in agreement. “Aye. This kingdom has seen enough death,” he agreed. “It is not the seats of their control that need to be stormed. Their castles will remain untouched. Their power is far more fragile than they understand.”
