by C. J. Aaron
“As for the youngest of our companions, though her input, her visions can be invaluable, on this journey, Faya’s company should travel no further than Cadsae,” Paasek intoned.
The statement was received with an expected result. The relief that covered Rolan’s body was obvious. The tension that had congregated in his shoulders released in unison. His body seemed to shrink as he exhaled. Sarial offered a warm, heartfelt smile.
“And fear not, I will break the news to young Aelin,” the phrenic counselor continued. “His strength would be welcome, yet I fear further breaking his young mind. Though he shows them not, the wounds of his last excursion are still too fresh.”
The logic was sound. Aelin had been subject to the horrors of the Horde. Though his powers had blossomed as a product of the unimaginable stress, the risk was too great. He’d stood alone against an army, fighting with little more than a stick. The destruction he’d wrought was incredible. Despite little hope of survival, he’d held off the Horde, saving Breila in the process. One day, he would be a force to be reckoned with.
It was only a matter of moments before Cray returned with the twins in tow. They walked with eager steps, Tash following behind Andr’s boy. Palon remained at the rear; his stealthy gate made him appear to slide across the clearing.
“Count us in,” Tash announced as they approached.
Ryl grinned as he noted the changes. He greeted his friends warmly, though no introductions were needed. Time was short; there was much that needed to be discussed.
With the acknowledgment of the group that was to depart, the conversation shifted to the task at hand. The message they were to deliver would need to be clear. What little information they’d garnered from Le’Dral’s spies confirmed that the seat of power still remained in the capital city of Leremont. Andr briefly relayed what he knew of the capital while refraining from rendering any sort of concrete judgment until they could convene in full with the entirety of their team. Though he was familiar with the city, Le’Dral and Lord Eligar were sure to have a better grasp of the inner workings of the nobility.
As the time progressed, Ryl could feel the weariness that had been temporarily satiated by the impromptu meeting assert its will once more. He could feel the exhaustion of the day’s labors in every extremity. His arms and legs were weak. He wavered slightly as he stood.
“Then we are all in agreement,” Ryl announced after a spell. Around the group, heads nodded in silent assent. “Collect what supplies you need for the journey. Prepare those who will accompany us. Get some rest; we leave in the morning.”
The group separated, each hastening to the advancement of their prescribed task. Andr grinned as he crossed to the other side of the fire, catching Cray before he retreated for the night. Sarial moved purposefully to Ryl’s side. He could feel the warmth, the comfort radiating from his hand as she rested it on his shoulder.
“Watch over them, Ryl,” she whispered.
Chapter 22
Though the exhaustion had seeped deep into his bones, Ryl found himself awake early. Earlier than normal. He greeted the sun as the first rays of light streaked through the opening in the canopy high overhead.
Unsurprisingly, it was Andr who first awaited him beside the remains of the night’s fire. He sat on a bench fashioned from a log; he stared with a detached gaze into the undulating embers before him. The coals, though the glow from the blaze had vanished, generated waves of heat, cutting through the slight chill of the early morning.
The mercenary smiled as he tossed a chunk of bread to Ryl. The experience of warm, freshly baked bread was a luxury he was rarely afforded prior to his departure from The Stocks. He held the warm morsel to his nose for a moment, closing his eyes, enjoying the soothing experience of the fresh delight.
“You’re up early,” Andr commented. There was no surprise in his statement.
“I’d be more surprised if yours wasn’t the first face to greet me in the morning,” Ryl replied with a smile.
Andr issued a half chuckle at the retort, shifting to his side, allowing Ryl to fit on the log beside him. Though the sun had only just graced the sky, he knew the area would soon be flooded with activity. Soldiers still maintained their regimented schedules. Rising early was an affliction that the tributes would likely find hard to break.
He still suffered almost daily.
“Is he ready?” Ryl quizzed, though his tone was sympathetic.
Andr bit off a large hunk of bread, chewing slowly as he pondered. Avoiding the answer as he was lost in his thoughts.
“I meant what I said last night,” Andr responded calmly though his voice was colored by a hint of agitation. “I’ve seen much of the stock that the kingdom places in their defense. Their skills will be more than sufficient.”
The mercenary paused. It was obvious his statement was far from over. His gaze roved the interior of the clearing, pausing for a moment on one tree in particular. Ryl had no doubt the identity of at least one of the occupants inside the natural wooden chamber. He bit off a hunk of the warm bread, savoring the flavor as he waited for his friend. After a moment, Andr sighed, as his body could no longer bear the strain of the information.
“Is it a fool’s mission to bring them along?” Andr asked. The insecurity of his voice was startling. Ryl had never witnessed the likes from his stoic companion.
In truth, Andr had simply posed the question that Ryl struggled with until long after he’d lain down to rest. Though their martial education, their phrenic training had far surpassed where he had been at a comparable point, there was a concrete fear that threatened to consume him. Too many had been lost under his watch. All knew the risks, yet he had been tasked, rightly or wrongly, with their protection. The fear of failure rooted him to his seat.
The beginnings of activity were brewing inside the clearing. The earthen chambers under the trees were spilling their inhabitants out into the day singly or in pairs. His eyes focused on a group of three who shuffled from the tree opposite where they sat. They moved with hesitation to their steps. Even from afar, the panic in their eyes was noticeable.
They were among those Ryl and his companions had freed from the facility in the shadows of the Martrion ruins.
The shells of the tributes, though they had recovered much of their motor skills, still spoke little. They seemed content with the menial tasks that consumed the bulk of their days.
Ryl stopped himself as the thought took root. There was no satisfaction. There was no joy, yet there was no overt discomfort to their days. The activity was a distraction. Likely a welcome distraction from the horrors that lurked in the shadowed recesses of their minds. Though from all he could sense, from the little conversation they would engage in, they had yet to be exposed to the curse of the nexela, they were haunted nonetheless.
“I don’t know, Andr,” he muttered. “The answers that should be clear have become clouded. I can doubt every choice I’ve made. I can find faults in every action I’ve taken over the last cycle.”
Andr’s gaze had fallen squarely on Ryl, though now he followed the tangent of his eyes. Grinning as he noted the objects of his attention.
“They have you to thank, Ryl,” the mercenary replied. “Look around you; all here have benefited from the actions you question. I included.”
Ryl met his eyes; the emotion contained in the depths was overwhelming.
“You’ve never been one to give up, even at the sake of your own well-being,” Andr continued. “You cannot blame yourself for those who’ve been lost along the way. Neither can you leave the business at hand unfinished.”
The activity of the morning had quickly escalated. The quiet serenity of their conversation was interrupted by the steadily growing commotion of the early morning.
“We’ll see them home, Ryl,” the mercenary added as he rose, stretching as he reached his feet. The resolve in his voice hardened, a sentiment that Ryl desperately needed to hear.
“Aye, that we will,” he whispered as he f
ound his footing.
The pair found themselves in the mix of soldiers and tributes. Though they had only recently awoken, word had spread quickly about the impending departures. Ryl’s discomfort from the undue attention mounted. As expected, Andr weathered the storm with apparent ease. Thankfully, the focus shifted as more tributes greeted the morning.
The wild sensations of the untrained, unawakened phrenics swelled exponentially as their numbers increased steadily. Heart-wrenching sadness mingled with overwhelming joy. Devastating uncertainty coupled with unyielding confidence that bordered on haughty arrogance. Ryl felt the maddening mix grating at his mind. His insides contracted; his stomach twisted as the emotions rolled through him. Even the alexen inside his veins seemed pensive, disrupted by the confusing mixture.
Ryl took the moment of levity to greet his closest friends, who, as he expected, had remained apart from the majority of the others. Their sense of his emotions was welcome, even after all the changes that had occurred. They understood him better than most ever would.
He worked to paint the fake smile on his face as he approached, though he knew the effect would be lost on most. Most viewed him with a look that bordered on sympathy. Though they had been apart, they felt the definitive pull of duty that dragged him onward. They witnessed but a piece of the call of destiny that weighed on his shoulders. Zed towered over the group, his massive arms wrapped around young Aelin’s chest. Tash and Palon, each with a modest pack slung over their shoulders, stood on either side of Luan. For once, the joy, the familiar emotion that seemed permanently etched on Tash’s face was gone, replaced by a hardened look of determination.
Palon’s eyes shifted as they scanned the happenings of the morning. His gaze met Ryl’s, where they locked for a moment. As he approached, the motion of the eyes of the silent twin had bordered on frantic. Now the calm, cold determination was chilling. Luan remained in her typical position, hemmed in protectively between the pair. The look on her face was withering.
“One day, this will be over, will it not?” The abject joy of the squirming babe in her arms was chilled by her icy stare.
“Nothing will change unless we aid it,” Ryl replied. His answer did little to appease the incensed mother. “They’ve made the decision of their own volition. I will watch over them, as will the phrenics. We’ll be home soon.”
She offered a short, curt laugh.
“Home,” she whispered. “That is a dream worth waiting for.”
The cooing of little Rylan in her arms increased to a hungry moan.
“See to it that you find your way back.” Her eyes met his before she stepped forward, folding him into a quick, yet heartfelt embrace. Her parting with the twins brought tears to her eyes, though she quickly dabbed them away with her sleeve.
The parting words were few, yet meaningful between the remainder of his companions. Aelin of all was surprisingly subdued. Paasek’s estimation of the youth was shockingly accurate. He wasn’t ready for the world that was to greet them. He’d already seen, already experienced far more than most could, or should, in a lifetime.
“Watch over them until I return, my friend.” Ryl jostled the youngster’s hair, steeling his core with a thin layer of woodskin as the crushing embrace enveloped his lower body. Aelin’s grip was firm, yet showed remarkable control.
“Listen to the phrenics,” Ryl said as he stepped back from Aelin, raising his voice so that the entire group could hear. “Listen to the woods. Practice the budding skills, for they will grow easier in time.” He ended his statement, letting a feeling flow over his friends. It was raw; it was powerful; it had sustained him for cycles.
It was hope.
With a final nod, he bid farewell to his friends. Tears flowed freely from Luan’s eyes. Odus and Quinlen stepped forward, filling the voice where the twins, her ever-present providers, had stood. Rikel remained a step behind.
Absent from the group were Sarial and Elora. He’d bid farewell to the elder of the pair late the previous night. They had conversed for a time after the meeting had adjourned, sitting together on a natural wooden bench before the fire. For a few moments, there was a startling normalcy to the conversation. There was no separation, no gap, that he had felt grow between others as a result of the circumstances that now dominated his life. They talked as if they had never been apart.
The normalcy, even though it was momentary, was welcome.
His thoughts turned to Sarial, the closest thing to a mother he’d known since he had been abandoned. He had been conveyed into the dreaded black wagon, given to the kingdom that had stolen his youth. Her sadness at his early departure, at the departures of three more of the children she’d helped raise into young adulthood, was profound, yet through it all, there was a resounding joy. Ryl had never witnessed the woman glow as she now did. The signature of her alexen was bright, though dimmer than others; it was her own happiness that shined like the sun.
He smiled to himself as they crossed the clearing toward the stables that had been constructed along the edge of the forest. A small group stood separate from the guards who maintained the small herd of mounts. Ten horses were hitched to the railing of the fence, saddled and ready to ride. A small pack of supplies was tied to each.
Jeffers strode forward as they approached. He nodded politely to Cray, Tash and Palon. Ryl stopped as the others carried on to the horses. Ryl had done his best to stifle the nagging discomfort at the thought of not seeing the mender before his hasty departure. Among those tasked with the protection, or enslavement, of the tributes, he counted Jeffers as his first true friend. The mender had always been kind, carrying out his duties with compassion and a scientific interest that supplanted the violence and hatred that radiated from most of the other guards.
“I was going to welcome you back, my friend.” Jeffers smiled in greeting. “I’ve longed for a moment of conversation though it seems our time is destined to be short, as always.”
Ryl reached out to meet the mender’s outstretched hand. He noted the perceptive eyes of Jeffers pause for a moment as they noted the fresh markings on his right palm.
“A tale for another time, I suppose.” Ryl grinned. “We deliver a message to the capital, yet if time allows, I aim to free the facilities. Have you uncovered anything from the tome we collected from the first?”
Jeffers offered a pained smile as he responded. Ryl would have known the answer without words, as the stubborn look of defeat was etched clearly into the features of his face.
“I’m afraid the shorthand, or code, they used has baffled my attempts to garner any true secrets.” His voice was heavy with a profound feeling of defeat. “In truth, my time has been consumed by the care of the wounded. We’ve buried far too many. I fear the fields surrounding Tabenville may resemble more of a graveyard when all is said and done. Though the mystery frustrates me daily, I’m not sure that I want to break the code. The vile instructions contained inside, the horrors they’ve created should remain a secret.”
Ryl understood the sentiment. Of the Lei Guard, each and every one was once a tribute. The alexen, though diminished by the mask of the poison forced upon them, had been milked from their bodies, replaced by the controlling concoction, the taint of the nexela. The lifeless, hidden acres inside the Erlyn were a chilling sight. They were in the care of the benevolent woods now. Though none had returned from the hidden clearing, he trusted that when the forest had completed that which she’d set to accomplish, they would be released.
What state they would find themselves in was a question that plagued his mind daily.
“There was little to spare, though I’ve packed a small amount of medical supplies,” the mender added. A wave of sadness crossed his normally impassive face. “See to it that you return safely, my friend.”
Jeffers pulled Ryl into a brief embrace before striding across the chamber. A solitary phrenic stood at the forest’s edge. Jeffers’s guide to the clearing at Tabenville. The mender turned, offering a wide parting smile.
Faya, skipping across the clearing, nearly collided with the retreating mender. For an instant, a flash of annoyance clouded his face, fading quickly with a grin and a shake of his head. Expectantly, Rolan was close behind; the apologetic look seemed to be ingrained upon his face as his child grew more confident in her abilities and carefree about the world around her.
Ryl had only moved a few paces before Faya reached his side with Rolan in tow. The father carried a single large pack draped over his shoulder.
Ryl reached out, collecting the bag from the overburdened father.
“Your load continues to be far greater than mine, my friend.” Ryl grinned as he slung the bag over his shoulder. The tributes had little to nothing in the way of personal possessions. In most cases, the clothing on their backs were all they claimed, though the master had made a point to reinforce that they were still the property of the kingdom.
Faya and her father were only marginally better off in terms of personal possessions. They had fled from the coming hunters, departing with nothing more than they could carry. Even so, the bulk of their weight had been provisions, long gone after the moons. Rolan grinned; a touch of the concern lifted from his frame at the hands of the mild humor. Together, they closed the distance to the horses.
A fairly substantial gathering awaited them at the edge of the paddock. Ryl smiled as the collective represented all the factions that had stood together, save one. Eligar had been pivotal in his escape from The Stocks. The crafty lord’s arrival in Cadsae Proper had been unplanned, yet likely instrumental in their survival.
Though the bond between all had been forged by the hardship of survival, the distinct groupings were clear. Lenu stood alongside Dav, representing the Vigil. They would add Nielix to the group once they arrived in Cadsae. Beside them, the phrenics Paasek and Paelec remained stoic as they watched the gathering with their eyes. Ramm and Vox would be recalled from the palisades upon their arrival. The phrenic Rhoane had already departed in the dark hours of the night with a contingent of Vigil, set to relieve the others on the wall. They would man the watch as the group moved toward the capital. Only two phrenics, Taq and Ghen, remained within the Erlyn.
