by C. J. Aaron
The barrier exploded in a shower of sticks and leaves as Paasek barreled through. The phrenic growled as he unleashed a mighty blow with his great sword. The two hunters closest to the strike stood little chance of survival. They were afforded no time to counter the dramatic blow. Their bodies were gashed nearly in twain. Blood sprayed across the leafy walls as Paasek’s blade ripped through their thin armor, cutting deep into their flesh. Their bodies had yet to hit the cold earth before he turned his attention on the nearest of the remaining hunters.
Ryl dashed across the sheltered opening, easily leaping the fire in stride. A look of desperation gripped the face of the hunter in his path. The man grunted as he launched the small blade in his hand in a pitiful attempt at defense. Ryl only needed to dip into the speed in his veins for an instant. Time ground to a disorienting stop. The rotation of the dagger froze, the blade suspended in air.
Altering his path, Ryl slid a step to the left of the weapon. Without slowing, he plucked the blade out of the air, his right hand squeezing the grip in a reverse hold. A single step later, he released his hold on the speed as he slashed out with the blade. The steel passed through the neck of the hunter, permanently silencing his cry.
Forever ending his bloodlust.
The dead man toppled forward, his head a strip of flesh away from being severed from his body. His remains slumped forward, spilling across the upended table.
The hunters were no more.
Ryl surveyed the remains of the hidden chamber. Paasek rose to his feet as he finished cleaning his blade on a patch of clean fabric on a deceased hunter’s back. A chill rolled through his body. The devastation they had wrought was complete. Though their crimes had sealed their fate, the soldiers had not stood a chance. The seemingly endless loss of life that surrounded him was appalling.
Ryl again switched his hold on the weapon in his hand. The blade in his grip felt wrong, somehow tainted. How many innocent lives had the sharpened edges cut tragically short? The dark, unnatural whisper relished the contact with his skin. He grunted as he tossed the blade to the ground. It rotated once before burying itself into the earth.
“I’m tired of being both judge and executioner,” Ryl hissed.
Paasek stepped over the body of a hunter, pausing a step away. The phrenic rested his arms on Ryl’s shoulders. His eyes, though full of compassion, bored into him.
“I’m sorry, Ryl,” Paasek lamented. “The weight you bear is a culmination of ages of sins. Would you have let them live? You know as well as I their allegiances would never have changed. They strike from the shadows, murdering the innocent. They hunt children, slaughtering their families before their eyes. You know the evil they possess better than any.”
Ryl sighed as he met Paasek’s determined stare.
“I understand, my friend,” he whispered. “There is much to be done. The change that the kingdom deserves will take time. I vowed to see this through, and I mean to carry it out. Yet I long to be free from the destiny that has fallen on my shoulders. I wish to be rid the weight of responsibility.”
“That is the curse of the phrenic.” Paasek grinned. “It is an unfair burden thrust upon us without our knowledge or our blessing. To an extent, it is a weight we all bear, to some degree. Know that, while each path we walk is different, you do not walk yours alone.”
Ryl felt the wave of comfort wash over his body as Paasek rose to his full height.
“It is something you’ve heard from Andr and others, yet it is something that bears repeating,” he continued. “There are others who are willing to shoulder some of the burden, the responsibility for you. You command their loyalty and have earned their respect. Our place is not to lead. Ours is to right the wrong, to set the kingdom on a path where the presence of alexen is no longer a death sentence. Where phrenics walk free and unmolested throughout Damaris.”
Ryl knew the truth of his words. Their meanings rang true. He could feel the message resonate through his body. It echoed through the alexen in his veins.
The balance had yet to be restored.
There was much to be done.
Ryl rolled his shoulders as he met Paasek’s gaze with a determined one of his own.
“I will see this through. To the end,” he promised.
Ryl’s gaze rolled across the shelter secreted away in the trees. The days it had taken to construct the hideaway had likely numbered many. The shelter had concealed murderers. Its demise would be complete.
“This safehouse will harbor hunters no more,” he growled. “Let’s tear it to the ground with haste. We have prey to catch.”
It took but a matter of moments for Ryl and Paasek to undo the efforts that had taken days of secret labor to complete. Had it not been for the need of some sense of subtlety, Ryl would have used the burning blades of the Leaves to raze it to the ground. As it was, some manner of discretion was required. The importance of following the lone hunter outweighed the ease of the blaze.
The sky overhead had opened up. Rain poured through the opening where the thatched roof had once stood. The torrent of water had washed away the blood before they left the clearing.
Leaving the grove behind, the darkness of the stormy night was complete. The rain and thick clouds blocked out any light from the moon and stars overhead. Their assault and demolition of the hideout had been accomplished quickly. Ryl guessed that a little less than three miles separated them from the edge of the western palisade. The hunter was on foot. Though he had a head start, his progress was sure to have been sluggish as he fought his way through the downpour.
Finding his trail in the deluge of the storm was a difficult proposition. Ryl had not followed the hunter as he left the clearing, so even his true direction was unclear.
“Finding his trail will be impossible, though we at least know the direction of the palisade,” Ryl admitted, pointing toward the west. “We’ll split up here. Move to the south until I’m at the extent of your mindsight; then we’ll sweep toward the wall. Signal if you find him.”
With a nod, the phrenic pulled at his hood, adjusting it to better shield his face from the driving rain. Ryl followed a step behind as they abandoned the relative cover of the grove. At the edge of the grove they separated, Paasek angled to the south while Ryl continued heading due west.
The constant beating of the heavy rain had flattened the wild grasses of The Stocks. Ryl slowed his pace as he watched the direction of the glowing signature of his companion. The fields had taken a beating at the hands of the storm; no markings of footsteps could be seen through the darkness and rain. The ground underfoot quickly turned slick, squishing with every footstep.
With the torrent of the storm, the visibility had been reduced to only a matter of a few meters. Though Ryl held onto a sliver of hope that they could track the hunter, reach him before he was able to reunite with his companions atop the wall, the likelihood was slim. Without knowing the true direction or destination of the hunter, the likelihood of finding him eroded with every drop of rain from the clouds above.
After a few moments, Ryl noted the directional change of the glowing signature of Paasek in his mindsight. The phrenic, likely reaching the extent of his vision, had begun his cautious progression to the west.
Ryl maintained a measured pace as he squished through the rain-soaked fields of The Stocks. The phrenic cloak that wrapped his body prevented much of the water from soaking through to his skin, yet it wasn’t completely impervious. He hadn’t progressed more than a half a mile before he too was soaked to the bone.
The area that they traversed was entirely foreign to Ryl. There was little reason for any tributes to venture to this uninhabited, uncultivated corner of The Stocks. His limited view through the torrential rain was uninspiring. The scenery was an unchanging slurry of water, darkness and mud.
Though they were only a matter of three miles from the base of the wall, their progress was sluggish at best. Ryl’s feet sank into the waterlogged earth with every step. His thoughts turned
to the large, much heavier phrenic, who labored through the mud several hundred meters to his south. At the moment, the elder phrenic likely cursed himself for leaving the comforts of their hidden mountain home.
The thought was a pleasant, momentary distraction from the misery induced by the foul weather. Ryl shrugged off the discomfort, focusing on the task at hand. The prey they hunted was important. They knew the deadly sentiment was present among the guards. He was a key to connecting those who sought to sow the seeds of distrust. A willing participant who’d worked actively to strike fear into those who were silently sympathetic. Many had likely lived the entirety of their lives without questioning. Even if they had expressed sympathies, it was far more common to have kept their mouths sealed shut.
A thought not vocalized presented no immediate physical danger.
The sentiment kept silent had unknowingly aided in sealing the doom for thousands.
There were few in the newly constructed service of Captain Le’Dral who could be trusted wholeheartedly. Those honorable soldiers, who had been present with the captain, who’d fought and bled in defense of the tributes, were rarely spread amongst the general population. They were consolidated, their force stationed throughout the swelling settlement of Cadsae and the gates.
Ryl continued trudging across the slippery fields, his eyes scanning the rain-soaked darkness for any sign of the hunter. He frequently checked on the phrenic, tracking his progress to the south. His eyes could make out nothing more than distorted shapes less than a few meters away, yet the signature of Paasek glowed, a brilliant golden orb in his mindsight.
The aggravation mounted as the distance to the wall decreased. The rain had let up slightly, extending the range of his vision, if only by a few meters. From out of the darkness the black shadow of the wall took him by surprise. The darker shade of the stone loomed through the rain ahead. Ryl felt the sinking feeling in his core as the reality of the situation set in.
With no true direction to follow, the hunter had likely escaped their grasp.
He questioned his decision to destroy the hunters’ camp before trailing the soldier. Though it had only taken a matter of a few moments, the delay had cost them.
Ryl covered the remaining distance to the wall in a few lengthy paces. He slid to a stop at the base of the mighty stone barrier, his hands resting against the slick, cold stone. The signature of Paasek to his south paused as he reached the western palisade as well. At least for the moment, a portion of the swirling rains were blocked by the wall at his side.
He waited for a few moments, carefully observing the terrain that surrounded him. Looking at the ground he’d crossed to the east, the sweeping plains had continued uninterrupted until they reached the wall. Overhead, the dark line of the palisade was constant. Were it not for the weather, he was sure that the lanterns or torches of the patrolling guards would have been visible. At the very least, the evenly spaced guard towers would have been clearly illuminated.
What signal the hunter would relay to reach his companions atop the wall was unclear. Ryl resumed his motions as he crept to the south, his eyes maintaining a watch over the landscape before him as well as the pinnacle of the wall to his side. The tumult of the rain had lessened to a degree as the winds had begun to swell. Instead of a constant wall of water, the sheets of rain now assaulted him from all angles as the swirling winds jostled the water in the air.
As he moved further south, the momentary gaps in the blinding rain gave partial hints of the palisade ahead. Through the brief pauses, the flicker of lights from the guard tower was barely noticeable. The muted glow illuminated the multilevel tower; the light from the vertical slits for windows produced staggered glowing lines in the night.
Ryl hugged the edge of the wall as he stalked stealthily to the south. Though the faint light from the tower cast no illumination on the ground below, occasional shadows blotted out the slits of light, giving away the movement of the tower’s inhabitants. Over the steady patter of the rain and the whistling of the wind, no sound could be heard from the guards above. Hidden by the shadow, and partially protected by the wall, he paused, waiting for the glowing signature of his companion to approach.
A hint of motion, a darkened shadow moved. Ryl felt his body tense; the shape came from his left, from the interior of The Stocks. Paasek approached from the south. Ryl crouched slowly, coiling his legs with his weight on the balls of his feet. He sent a focused wave of emotion toward the incoming phrenic. He issued pause and a warning.
The shadow from the east grew as it approached, though its distorted form was yet still unresolved. The figure was less than five meters away when it abruptly pitched to the earth. The wet slap of its body on the wet ground was overshadowed by the curse that issued from its mouth. The angst dripped from the voice, falling harder than the rain from the clouds above.
“Don’t pay me enough for this,” the hunter cursed to himself as he slipped and stumbled toward the relative cover of the wall.
His vision was angled downward; his hands swiped the mud and blades of grass off his waterlogged body. Ryl could have been standing there with the Leaves burning, and the distracted man would likely have ignored his presence. He felt Paasek’s approach as the phrenic stalked ever closer.
Ryl rose from his crouched position as the darkened shadow of Paasek stopped a few meters from his body. The guard, still muttering obscenities to himself, looked up as he nearly walked straight into Ryl.
“What the …?” Ryl hardened the woodskin on his arms as he wrapped them around the unexpecting hunter. He twisted the man around, covering his mouth with his encrusted hand. The point of Paasek’s massive great sword seemingly materialized from the storm, pausing a finger’s width from the man’s throat. In the darkness and the rain, the blade seemingly floated in the air, held aloft by invisible hands.
“I will ask you very simple questions. Answer truthfully and you may yet live. Lie to me or call out for help and rest assured that none above will hear your screams before you die,” Ryl growled. His voice rumbled like the thunder from the raging storm. His tone was as dark as the night and as harsh as it was violent.
“You know who we are,” Ryl continued. “You’ve likely heard what we are capable of. Trust me, the tales were by no means an exaggeration. Nod your head if you understand me.”
There was no pause. No need for encouragement. No additional emotion required to illustrate his point. The hunter followed the command without hesitation.
“Good. Now that we understand each other, tell me how many await your return atop the wall?” Ryl quizzed.
He removed his hand from the hunter’s lips, curling his elbow around the man’s neck. Ryl hardened the crust of the woodskin to a perceptible bark as he squeezed gently for effect.
The hunter gulped awkwardly as the arm constricted around his throat.
“T-Ten,” he stuttered as he choked out the words.
Ryl let some of the tension in his arm fade.
“Were all involved? Was the payment to be made for their collective silence?” he grumbled.
The pause before his response was telling. Ryl never expected the full truth.
“What? What are you talking about?” the hunter replied.
Ryl growled as he spun the man around. With one fluid motion he slammed the hunter into the stone of the palisade, lifting his body off the ground. He hardened the woodskin on his arm, forming a solid trunk that propped the helpless hunter aloft. The man wheezed as he fought to regain his breath that had been robbed from his lungs as he hammered into the wall. His legs spasmed and kicked, his feet sliding down the slick wall as they desperately sought hold. He wrapped his hands around Ryl’s wrist, clawing frantically at the grasp. It was a futile attempt. The man tore his fingers to shreds on the thick bark that coated Ryl’s arm.
After a few moments, he released the sputtering hunter. His arm reverted back to its norm as the man splashed to the mud at his feet. Paasek materialized at his side, the edge of
the blade gently meeting the man’s chin, lifting his head upward.
“Do not play us for fools. We know,” Paasek rumbled. “Your companions in the glade are dead. Your hidden shelter among the trees is destroyed. You will share their fate should you lie to us again.”
The hunter needed no more convincing. His lips started moving; his worried eyes darted between the shadowed forms of Ryl and Paasek. For a moment they looked beyond them, as if peering into the darkness for confirmation of the threat.
“They are a squad of ten,” the hunter offered. “I was to switch places with one who was to rejoin the others in the grove.”
“That’s better,” Ryl added. “Are there more hideouts hidden through The Stocks?”
The hunter looked away for a brief moment, failing to meet either of their shadowed eyes. That there were more hiding places, Ryl had no doubt. At the moment though, that was of little concern.
“Tell me, how was it that you were to signal those above?” Ryl inquired.
The hunter’s eyes strayed from their bodies, his head turning but a hair as the point of the blade pressed against his skin. He attempted to look up and back toward the guard tower to the south.
“A whistle was to serve as the signal. They lower a rope ladder down just to the north of the tower,” he offered.
Ryl looked at the phrenic at his side. Paasek nodded his head in silent agreement.
“Very well. On your feet,” Ryl ordered. Paasek slowly removed the blade from the hunter’s neck. “You’ll be given space. Call them. Call down the ladder. If you signal them otherwise, you’ll die. If you attempt to flee, you’ll die. We do not need your assistance to gain the top of the wall. Warn them of our presence and all will perish as a consequence.”
Ryl dropped his hand to his back. The sudden rush of excited energy flowed up his left arm as his fingers closed around the wooden handle of a single dormant blade. He withdrew the weapon though the flaming blade remained in slumber. The hunter looked in confusion at the seemingly innocuous stick in Ryl’s hands. It was only a moment before his eyes went wide, fear creeping into the orbs.
