by C. J. Aaron
The extreme nature of the changes was startling. The world outside had never encroached upon the land inside The Stocks. Few now ventured beyond the walls for fear of the death that lingered outside the gates. There was little sense of confidence in their safety and security beyond the protection of the walls. Many had nothing left to return to, as much of the city had been razed by necessity. The volume of death had been too great to maintain. The graveyard had become a pyre.
Ryl’s attention focused on the solitary gate that spanned the gap between The Stocks and the world beyond. The blackened mouth of the Pining Gates that had haunted his dreams for cycles was nowhere to be found. Daylight streamed through the open doors, accompanied by a mitigated flow of humanity. Few seemed to be exiting the security of The Stocks; their number greatly exceeded those entering. Only a handful of stragglers wandered in from the razed city beyond.
The central square was crowded; its inhabitants stood in large, regimented groups. The drab, unmarked green of House Eligar controlled the area. As he watched, a contingent of Fay’s troops marched through the open gates, heading south to the ports. Ryl viewed the affair silently. There was no fanfare as the soldiers filed from The Stocks. Outside of his circle of close confidants, little was known about the timely arrival of Fay’s troops. Though the rumors that circulated were wide ranging and varied, few knew the true reason for their coming.
Few of these cared for the political ramifications of their arrival.
Many citizens, survivors of the massacre of Cadsae Proper, owed them their lives. The gratitude ran deep and eternal. The gift of life was something tangible, far more potent than anything the kingdom had thus far provided.
The guard, the messenger who had accompanied them back from the Erlyn, reined his horse alongside Ryl.
“Captain Le’Dral will need a report,” the guard said. “I’ll inform him that you’ll be arriving shortly.”
“Aye, we won’t be far behind,” Ryl acknowledged.
With a brief salute, the guard spurred his horse into a canter as he approached the swelling city. Rolan, with Faya perched on his lap, filled the gap where the soldier had been. He met Rolan’s eyes for a moment; they darted across the dramatically enlarged settlement with a profound sense of concern. They’d hidden from densely populated areas, keeping to the backwater towns and villages when possible. The close proximity to so many thousands was unnerving. He was well aware of the threats that still lingered within the population. Much had changed, though the sentiment that had sealed the fates of him and his child still lingered.
He twisted in the saddle, bringing his gaze on the trio of unawakened who stopped a meter behind his position. Cray and Tash scanned the surroundings with a disturbing look of rigor and uncertainty. The wounds that had been formed over cycles of surviving the cruel settlement and its masters would not likely heal soon.
“Welcome home,” Ryl commented.
“There isn’t much left to recognize.” Tash’s voice was distant. Ryl watched as his eyes stopped for a moment as they catalogued the square that stretched out before him. The features of his face twitched as memories of the past returned uninhibited.
Cray simply nodded his head as he too took in the changes that had occurred throughout the settlement. The sleepy village they had departed less than two moons earlier was nowhere to be found, lost far beneath the hectic accommodations that had been provided out of necessity.
“Is this truly all that remains of Cadsae Proper?” Cray whispered the question.
“Aye, it is,” Ryl responded. “Though I’m afraid the true number is far less than you can imagine. Soldiers and guards make up much of the population. Though their pain has been brief, they’ve endured much.”
The look on Cray’s face was haunted as he surveyed the square. Of the three, Palon alone appeared unaffected, though his eyes continued their rapid assessment of their surroundings. His hands lingered close to the handles of the twin blades strapped to his hips. Their eyes met for an instant only. The wicked chill of cold calculation was evident. He feared any who stood in the way of the budding phrenic even now.
When his skills peaked, he would be a terrifying force.
A flash of a smile crossed his features for a moment, though it receded as quickly as it came. For that instant, Ryl could see through the mask. The man beneath was torn. His skills were a boon, his powers had yet to blossom, yet his strength was unquestioned. Beneath it all, his true emotions were the ones that likely held sway. There was an underlying uncertainty and a fear that threatened to spill over.
At that moment, Ryl regretted allowing them to come. They were skilled, that was true, yet they were untested. Their emotions were still too fresh, too raw. He knew too well the depth of the hurt they’d suffered over the cycles of imprisonment.
Over the course of the last few days, as with the moons since he’d returned to The Stocks, there had been little opportunity to reconnect with his friends. They had pushed their horses hard, crossing the miles along the dusty road as expediently as possible. Riding in formation, they’d surrounded the least experienced among them, escorting them to the south. When they stopped for rest, they did so in shifts. Even though The Stocks had remained placid, their heightened alert had given little time for relaxation and conversation.
Their company was welcome. Ryl was thankful that the gap that had formed between himself and many of the other tributes seemed less substantial. The divide was still crossable. They neither openly feared the uncertainty of his unquestionable strength nor revered him as their savior.
Ryl’s eyes scanned the growing city before him. It moved with a shocking speed, a flurry of activity spurred by the recent reality of their own mortality. The rhythmic thumping emanating from the smithy had increased as a team of workers now manned the forges. A staccato chorus of distant hammering signaled the bevy of new construction that was well underway.
As of yet, little attention was given to their arrival, as mounted patrols were common. He cringed; his stomach seemed to twist at the realization that this moment of anonymity would be short lived. The contingent of guards had noted their pause, watching them carefully, yet displaying no sign of alarm. Even from a distance, he was readily identifiable.
His watchful gaze landed on Faya. She too viewed the commotion of Cadsae with a sense of trepidation, though the features of her youthful face were more difficult to read. She appraised the area with an apprehensive scowl, though her questioning gaze held the impression that she was searching for something. She snuggled her head against her father’s chest, her sightless eyes meeting Ryl’s. He blinked for a moment, focusing on the alexen as his thoughts turned to Da’agryn, to the knowledge and the skills that he’d provided. The flood of knowledge still struck him with a palpable force. He swayed for a moment as he focused on the object of his attention.
A small grin crossed his face as he again opened his eyes to view his handiwork. A solitary butterfly, larger than his hand, floated downward, flapping its multicolored wings as it descended toward the youngster. Varying hues of vibrant oranges and yellows were separated by stark lines of black. Curiously, her gaze tracked the moving insect. Was she able to comprehend the shape of the illusion? Faya beamed with wonder as she held her hand out, stretching her fingers out for a perch.
The butterfly bounced through the air, flapping rapidly as it alighted on Faya’s outstretched finger. She stifled a hushed gasp, an involuntary response, so as not to frighten the apparition. She appeared to study the creature for a moment as it spread its wings wide, showing off its patterned wings. Her gaze shifted to his; her smile was infectious.
“It’s beautiful,” she added. “I can see its shape, yet I feel nothing as it rests on my finger.”
Ryl grinned as he let the illusion fade. The butterfly form became hazy before vanishing, leaving a sense of loss as nothingness remained where the majestic insect had been.
His breaths were measured, though he could feel the concrete effects
of the exertion. Conjuring the illusions was still a taxing effort, though his endurance had grown rapidly. There had been thankfully little to occupy them on the rapid trek from the Erlyn. The Stocks had, for the moment, granted them a measure of peace that was welcome. Ryl had been anything but idle.
With carefully planned precision, he’d undertaken a silent, solitary training regimen as the horses ate up the miles alongside the lazy river. His advent had started small, a single rock, partially buried in the soil where the hard-packed earth met the road. Water splashed as a large fish propelled itself into the air, its shimmering body flashed in the sunlight before it slipped back into the river. In the distance, the silhouettes of a pair of workers paused as they tended the crops before them, raising a hand in greeting. Faya had been a willing subject for his creative endeavors.
With each attempt, the exhaustion followed. He pushed himself further and further with each illusion. At times, he wavered in the saddle as he delved too deeply into the training. He marveled at the unimaginable power required by the Erlyn to maintain control over her domain.
“We’ve been here before,” Faya announced unrequested.
“Aye, we’ve been here many times, my dear,” her father’s soothing voice answered.
Faya shook her head; a frustrated scowl crossed her face for a moment before fading.
“Yes, of course, Father. Not like this though,” she retorted. There was an assertive confidence to her reply. There was no question in her mind. “I’ve seen us here. I’ve seen the horses. I’ve seen the great boats floating at the port.”
Ryl smiled at the child. She had been tight-lipped regarding her visions. Though they demanded her presence, she was unsure as to why. Her vision turned again to the growing city before them, scanning from the east where it met the wall to the newest of the sprawling construction to the west.
“I’m needed here for something, yet I know not what.” There was frustration in her voice as her mind struggled to process the visions that were rumored to be notoriously faulty for the unawakened.
Ryl let a wave of calm flow over the child as he responded. “Fear not, Faya. The alexen will provide the answer when the time is right,” he instructed. “I’ve experienced the same frustration as you do now. Trust that all will be revealed in time.”
Faya smiled as she contemplated Ryl’s words. Rolan nodded his head in silent approval.
“Let’s not leave the captain waiting any longer.” Ryl pivoted in the saddle so the remainder of his companions could hear. “Maintain the formation we have for miles. Rolan, Cray, Tash and Palon, I want you in the middle. I don’t anticipate any trouble, though we know there are elements who would willingly sacrifice themselves for an easy target. Paasek and Paelec, bring up the rear. It’d be wise to get out of the open quickly.”
There was no questioning Ryl’s command. As they moved down the hill, the Vigil peeled off to either side, flanking Faya and Rolan. The trio of unawakened moved into position as they pressed forward. The guards manning the newly established northern border offered a rough salute though they made no attempt to slow the party. Ryl and the phrenics were somewhat of an anomaly to the regimented order installed by Captain Le’Dral. They were not soldiers of the guard, answering to no one, yet their orders were understood and unquestioned.
They slowed but little as they moved through the busy street. The citizens and soldiers granted way for the party, most continuing about their prescribed business without distractions. Ryl was not oblivious to the whispers that followed his recognition. He could feel the press of the growing number of eyes that focused on the group. On him in particular. They angled along the outskirts of the central square, moving between the contingents of Lord Eligar’s troops and the run-down semicircle of original structures of Cadsae. Ahead, the master’s house and clinic stood alone. The press of activity that defined daily life in the budding town generally avoided the structure. The martial presence had swelled since they’d left only a few days past. Security would not be taken lightly.
For a moment, a stab of worry dominated his thoughts. Had the violence that plagued the waystation played out in Cadsae as well? Would there come a time when a coordinated effort to topple the loose security, the freedom they’d achieved, would be forged from within? At the present, the enemies were far closer.
The Horde, though a present source of anxiety, was secondary to the true threat. The human threat.
The ranks of guards who surrounded the master’s house had been bolstered since Ryl and Paasek had departed only a few days earlier. A contingent of nearly fifty armed soldiers ringed the building, their heaviest number centered before the front entranceway.
As they approached, Ryl noted the familiarity of many of the faces. Likely, the bulk if not all had been among those who’d accompanied them and the tributes into the Erlyn. Nielix separated himself from the group, striding over to meet them.
The Vigil inclined his head in greeting as he collected the reins of Ryl’s horse as the phrenic slid to the ground. He surveyed the group, his eyes pausing for an extended moment on the three unawakened in the center of their group.
“There’s likely a story.” He shrugged. “The captain will be no doubt interested in hearing. “I’ll save you from telling the details twice.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Ryl admitted, patting the Vigil on the shoulder as he turned to assist Faya from her father’s horse. “There always seems to be a story.”
Nielix snorted a short single laugh, grinning as he led the horse toward the hitching post and stable along the far side of the building. The words caught in his mouth as he noted Faya, who now stood at Ryl’s side.
“Only a few scattered occurrences worth noting,” he replied cryptically. “One of which you are already well aware of. Thankfully, yours was by far the most … damaging.”
His words were chosen with care. Though the timbre of his voice was pleasant, concern was laced with each word. Ryl nodded in silent understanding as the Vigil strode away. There was far more that he intended to say, though for the moment he held his tongue in the presence of the youngster.
Nielix had been a troubling figure to him for some time. His early treatment of Ryl was an all too painful reminder that cruelty exists in all corners of the world. The idyllic, hidden marvel that was the city of Vim was a bastion for the phrenics, yet division still remained.
He had long forgiven the man for his attitude. It was an attitude based out of sheer jealousy, flavored by the perceived affection of the one thing he could not succeed at.
Kaep.
Though neither had Ryl sought her affection, there had been a definite magnetism between the two. The sensations, the electric energy that had bloomed with even the slightest touch of their skin, was a phenomenon that had remained a mystery until the bitter end.
The ancient woods had granted her understanding. Her aloof attitude toward him was a reaction to the realization of the true purpose of her inherent gifts. She knew their destinies were tied.
Her end was assured, yet when the moment presented itself, there was no hesitation. She rushed headlong into disaster. It was her sacrifice that had saved them all.
That saved him.
He felt the tingle of excitement, nothing more than the hairs on his right arm standing on end as the thoughts spurred a response. Her essence was a part of him now. Though the alexen, the ingrained memories of countless phrenics flowed through his veins, it was her voice that rang with serine clarity.
He had forgiven Nielix for that sin. The second was still far too difficult to reconcile. A phrenic had died due to his careless, untouchable attitude. Ryl had seen a change in the Vigil following Deyalou’s death. The cost of his reckoning was great, yet he’d proven his loyalty; his skills were unquestioned.
Ryl’s attention turned to his companions, who had all dismounted save for Palon. He felt the sudden twitch of anxiety as he caught the gaze of the tribute locked onto a single point toward the south. Toward the
gate. The alexen was only a moment behind, churning through his veins in anticipatory warning. Ryl took a step forward, placing his body in front of Faya and Rolan as the shouting arose from the entrance to the gates.
Tension, though it was a predominant element, had still hung loosely in the atmosphere. With the advent of the coarse shouts, it descended, settling like a heavy mist, stifling the air. Though the words were unintelligible from where he stood, the emotion, the anger, was clear.
A trio of newcomers stood just inside the inner gates. Guards within earshot rushed toward the commotion, hands hovering close to the handles of their swords. Their body language spoke more to the subject of the conversation than did the words whose meaning were lost across the distance.
The trio consisted of two starkly differing elements. Without a doubt, two of the three acted as bodyguards. Swords hung easily from their hips; even with their animated gesticulating, their hands remained cautiously distant from their blades. They were both tall, well muscled, doing nothing to hide their martial influence. Ryl felt his breath catch for a moment.
The pair had the distinct, nondescript appearance of the hunters.
The third member of their group was a clear juxtaposition to their physically fit, prepared posture. The man shied back from the threat of the fray though his hands were upheld in a manner placating to both his partners and the guards alike. Like his companions, his travel clothing was rugged, showing the telltale signs of wear.
Faya stepped to the side of Ryl, laying her hand for a moment on his left arm before striding forward, toward the fray.
“I recognize that man,” she announced over her shoulder. “Father, that’s the mender who warned us.”
Rolan’s gasp was audible as he hastened to catch up with his daughter. Ryl felt his heart surge as he moved forward in pursuit of Faya.
“Andr, with me,” Ryl commanded as he walked. He needed no visual confirmation; he heard the slightly staggered footsteps of his friend on the hard-packed earth of the square.
Oblivious or ignorant to the blatantly heated words that grew with ever-increasing clarity as they approached, Faya continued forward unimpeded. Her quickened gait turned to a slow skip as she approached the verbal altercation. Though sightless, she moved through the crowd with ease. Onlookers shuffled from the path without a word, ceding their way without a sound to the sightless child who strode carefree through their midst.
