by C. J. Aaron
News of the happenings in The Stocks had reached the capital, which meant versions of it had been disseminated among the higher echelons of society as well as the kingdom as a whole.
Word had a way to travel faster than the wind.
The more shocking the news, the greater the speed.
News of The Stocks, the disruption of the Harvest, the battle before the wall, and the death of the king would be known by all.
The devastation of the Estates that bordered the southern palisade had likely served as a stark reminder that their mortality was finite. The volume of soldiers they now held in retainers would have swelled dramatically. The price of their services would have grown exponentially. Ryl looked at the mercenary who had become the closest person to family. At one point, the allure of coins would have been too great to resist.
“From what we know, we are inside the blockade; what reception will we garner from the private guards of the nobility?” Ryl asked. Any attention from the sea was a few hours off at best. There would likely be a response from the land, though there would be no stealth used to conceal their approach. He was certain their presence would be noted long before they posed any threat. The unawakened chose dry clothing over the threat of treading further in their wet apparel. The trio stripped down, hastily donning their dry garments. The rest of the party wrung out the excess water as best they could, silently content to forge onward, letting the air dry them.
Cavlin rolled his shoulders; even in the darkness, Ryl caught the sudden wince of pain. His left arm moved to cover the healing wound on his abdomen, squeezing against his body as he spoke. Ryl noted the hint of pain that flavored his words.
“It’s not uncommon for groups to travel the road at all hours of the night. Neither will the presence of swords necessarily spark any warning,” he responded. “Our present company, however …”
His eyes moved to the tributes first before scanning the phrenics as he paused.
“Our present company will likely draw more unnecessary attention,” he continued. “The brands on your necks are a dead giveaway. Tales of the tattooed warriors who disrupted the Harvest, who held the demons of the Horde at bay have likely grown into something of legend.”
“Will Fay’s uniforms be known well enough to raise any undue alarm?” Ryl quizzed. “Brands will be an easy thing to conceal. I’d like to preserve as much of my strength as possible should we be detained for any length of time. The illusion of clothing on so many will be taxing.”
“Not likely,” Millis added. “House Eligar’s colors would be well known to the guards, though it is unlikely that the relatively plain clothes they wore to Cadsae Proper would be recognized.”
Ryl shook his head in understanding as he retrieved the dry tunic from his pack. He repressed a sense of annoyance as he removed and carefully stowed his phrenic cloak in his small bag. He knew the other phrenics would likely feel the same. The feeling of dry clothing on his skin should have been a comfort when compared to the wet rags that he removed, yet the sensation of the fabric over his tattooed arms was a constant irritation.
The trek through the woods was an arduous, though uneventful affair. Brambles and bushes choked the pathways between the trees, making for sluggish travel. It wasn’t until they happened upon a small game trail that their progress increased to a steady march. Though their speed increased, they stopped frequently, their eyes and ears tuned to the noises around them. Little in the way of sound echoed through the dense undergrowth aside from the muffled scurrying of small creatures fleeing their path and the occasional beating of wings as their group disrupted the nighttime activities of some avian predator.
Time dragged on as they followed the winding, narrow game trail, though it was likely little more than an hour before they reached the thinning edge of the forest. The light from the moon through the clouds was dull, though it was welcome, as their eyes had grown accustomed to the complete blackness under the trees. Ahead a wide field of wild grasses swayed gently in the breeze; the motion was eerily similar to the rolling waves of the sea. In the distance a thin line of darkness bisected the wild fields.
The Kingsway.
The sight of the thoroughfare disappeared into the darkness as it meandered over the rolling hills to the west. Cadsae Proper and The Stocks lay several hundred miles in that direction, separated by two armies and a kingdom corrupt, stubborn and hesitant to give up the twisted ways of the past. Ryl sneered as he moved his attention to the east.
The complete darkness of the early hours of morning was still upon them. Through the patchy clouds to the east, the night sky was still shrouded by a deep violet. It would be a few hours before the sun rose enough to begin to brighten the horizon. Ryl understood that the wild plains ran uninhibited for several miles before ending abruptly as they reached the outermost walled estates. Flickering pinpoints of light sparkled in the darkness as the sprawling complexes were illuminated in part, warding off the dangers of the darkness.
Millis moved a step ahead from the group, surveying the road ahead; his vision remained on the flickering light in the distance before he turned to face the group. He surveyed them with as much curiosity as he viewed the landscape that surrounded them.
“We’ve been through much in the last few moons, yet even in the poor light, I believe this is the first time I’ve seen any of your faces.” Millis grinned. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the gaze of those who’ve stood shoulder to shoulder in defense of the tributes. In defense of the kingdom as a whole. Though it’s still dark, I recognize that look. The burning expression, the determination will not diminish.”
Millis’s gaze shifted to Ryl as he continued. “I’ve seen firsthand the power the conviction holds,” he reiterated. “Even when wielded by the hands of one untrained in the powers that my eyes still have trouble comprehending.”
The phrenics remained silent though their response was crystal clear. The feelings of gratitude, of acceptance and of hope were unquestionable.
For a few moments none broke the silence, though all eyes returned to their calculating surveillance of the road and estates in the distance.
“The road ahead is still long,” Cavlin announced, breaking the silent surveillance of the surrounding terrain. “From here we’re still a good thirty miles from the outer wall of Leremont. If we make haste, we can reach the capital in the middle of the next night. That will leave us two days before the start of the Deliverance.”
Though the front of the walled estates was yet miles in the distance, it was agreed that approaching on the open road was the wiser of prospects. Groups of travelers, while not uncommon, would raise less attention when in plain sight on the well-worn road than skulking in the shadows of the forest.
After the disturbances of the naval battle, the night had returned to its original quiet. The high-pitched buzz of insects silenced momentarily as the party passed through the tall grasses. The rustling of the plants as they were jostled by the wind was calming as they moved onward toward the blackened line that signified the presence of the road. They had covered nearly half the distance when Ryl stopped abruptly.
Floating on the wind was an unnatural noise. A low rumble sounded from the east, accompanied by an intermittent squeaking that pierced through the racket.
He sank into a crouch as he motioned for the party to follow suit. A pair of horses pulling a large wagon loaded with bodies surged westward along the Kingsway. It charged out from behind the unintentional cover of the wall of the estate that bordered the southern side of the road.
“Down,” Ryl hissed as he flattened his body to the ground. One by one the heads of his companions submerged beneath the sea of wild grasses. He groaned as his eyes registered the path they had carved in the field with their passage. He steadied his breath as he focused on the discrepancy. The darkened streak from where they had walked vanished, swallowed by the waving grasses that surrounded them.
The wagon approached at speed; a pair of lanterns hanging from t
he front illuminated the road before them; the wash of light spilled outward in a wide halo. As they neared their position, the details of the cargo became clear. A pair of guards rode at the head of the wagon, the bed bristling with the heads of soldiers they pulled in tow. They moved with purpose spurred on by necessity.
As they neared where the party lay concealed in the grasses, the wagon slowed. Ryl felt his heart hammer in his chest as the guards angled the horses off the road, cutting into the field to the south. The heavy clop of the great horses’ hooves on the hard-packed road deepened into solid thumps as they plodded across the natural turf. The wagon creaked and groaned as it protested the rougher terrain.
Ryl watched attentively as the guards guided the horses through the field. Though they were still a good twenty meters away, the risk of discovery was real. The words were garbled, yet he could hear the animated tones of the conversations of the soldiers riding in the rear of the wagon.
After a few tense moments, the carriage and its crew rumbled past. At the tree line, the soldiers disembarked with haste. The group gathered for a moment while the drivers tethered the horses to the nearest tree before heading into the forest. In the dim light it was difficult to accurately count their numbers, though Ryl’s best estimate had their strength at no more than twenty men. They removed a single lantern from the wagon before heading into the forest.
Ryl watched for a moment as the party disappeared into the darkened line of trees. The crunching of their footsteps on the fallen leaves and the snapping of twigs signaled their haste and complete disregard for stealth. The sudden thought sparked an idea that initiated the wicked grin that pulled up on the corners of his lips.
Their arrival was fortuitous.
Ryl rose to his knees, letting his gaze fall on the wagon for a moment before reaching his companion sheltering beneath the waving grasses. His eyes met with Andr’s as he spoke. The mercenary’s eyes hardened, as their thoughts were in tune.
“Let’s pay our friends a visit,” he growled.
The whisper of darkness that rose from deep within relished the comment. For a moment its intentions were aligned with Ryl’s.
Chapter 29
Ryl stalked through the underbrush, his footsteps were cautious, yet there was little need to conceal all sound. The party of soldiers they tracked moved at an uncomfortably sluggish pace. Their haphazard plodding through the woods elicited a colorful variety of curses and more than enough sound to drown them all out.
They had separated into two groups as they stalked their prey into the forest. Divided as they had been on the vessels at sea, Ryl led his group to the west of the guards while Paasek moved to the east. It wasn’t long before they had forged ahead of the fumbling soldiers; the soothing sounds of the waves crashing on the shore were clear, even over the din of the uncoordinated movement through the woods.
With a quick word, Ryl stopped in the path of the oncoming guards. He wheeled around to face the incoming soldiers, his companions spreading out to his left in a convex line. Andr was positioned to his side, the phrenics Vox and Ramm beside him. The three unawakened formed the end of his line. They were under explicit orders to avoid all combat should it come to that.
Ryl felt the approach of the party to his right, his phrenic senses alerting him to the others nearby. The hulking, angular form of Paasek materialized from the dark, pausing a few meters from his shoulder. A blade had sprouted in his hand. The massive great sword shimmered as it caught the dappled hints of moonlight that snuck through the foliage. The stealthy phrenic archer, Paelec, slipped silently between the pair. To Paasek’s side, Ryl knew the remainder of their group fanned out to form the trap that was soon to be sprung.
With slow, steady breaths, he steeled himself as the light from the lantern grew as it cut through the trees. There were no direct lines of sight beneath the canopy of foliage, no easy path to flee. Whether they would fight or flee, that would soon be decided. The noises of the guards crashing through the underbrush grew.
The light from the lantern cast odd shadows as the group moved through the forest. They were nearly upon them when the soldier in the lead finally noted Ryl’s ominous presence materializing from the darkness a few meters before them. The glint of a blade in the darkness brought him to a hasty stop. With only a feeble cry of warning, the man in the lead toppled forward, falling to his hands and knees as those behind him continued forward. Ryl hammered the group with a sense of paralyzing fear. Their line compressed, bunching into a compact ball of humanity, as the forest moved around them. Unseen soldiers, weapons drawn, stepped from the shadows into the outermost ring of the lantern’s light.
“Lay down your weapons. Now.” Ryl again emphasized his words with an overwhelming feeling of dread. Compliance would be the only option.
There was something off to the feeling. The darkened sensations felt tainted as the power flowed from his veins. As necessary as they were, he regretted forcing the emotions upon others, yet a disturbing piece of him relished the control, the dominion over the helpless guards.
The soldiers needed no further pressing to oblige. The clanging of steel blades as they struck the exposed roots of the trees echoed through the darkened forest.
“Who … who are you?” The lead soldier had managed, though tentatively, to return to his feet. He shifted backward, pressing against the compacted circle of humanity at his rear.
“You were unlucky to find us tonight,” Ryl growled, his face maintaining a wicked sneer. “We are not whom you seek. They are dead, swallowed by the sea.”
Ryl angled his head toward Andr at his left.
“Bind them,” he ordered before turning his head back to the leader of the group. The man was young, likely little older than himself. His pressed uniform was immaculate, likely never seeing any combat more fierce than training could produce. He regretted the man’s misfortune.
There were a few grumbled complaints as guards’ hands were tied securely behind their backs. Unarmed and surrounded by an armed force whose number they knew not, their position was hopeless. Ryl maintained a sporadic illusion that surrounded the group. Just beyond the extent of the lantern’s light, the darkened shadows of patrols shifted silently between the trees.
“Why are you doing this?” It was the first guard who voiced the complaint as he along with his companions were bound.
“Because, like you, I have orders,” Ryl growled. “Orders from a higher authority than you.”
He turned to Andr, who was finishing the restraints on the speaker of the group.
“Take them to the sea,” he demanded as his companions began shuffling the restrained soldiers through the woods toward the sounds of the waves to the south. “Kill them. Let the water hide their remains.”
The collective tension descended over the procession. There were groans of shock and terror, yet the bared blades held the doomed guards in check. There was a growing sense of blackness from within, bubbling up at the prospects of the impending slaughter.
“Sir, they are unarmed and bound.” It was Paelec who protested the order. He had only taken a few steps as he led the leader of the kingdom’s guards toward his doom. “These were not our orders.”
“Perhaps not your orders, but my directive comes from Lord Kagran himself. You do well not to question the regent if you value your life as well. The kingdom is changing. The great houses will fall one by one. The foolish escapades in The Stocks have provided an ample distraction; they have divided the forces throughout the kingdom. You know as well as I under what banner the troops that control the capital march. The black guard follows him without question.”
Ryl let the illusion of the soldiers in the trees fade.
Paelec was silent as he ushered his quarry to the south. An agonized cry cut through the night. It cut off with an abrupt silence. The phrenic archer had made it a step beyond Ryl when he turned without warning. He spun the bound guard with him, pushing the man ahead to the north.
“Run,” he hisse
d as he lunged at Ryl.
The sudden impact was jarring. Ryl and the phrenic archer spilled to the ground, snapping twigs as they struggled together on the leafy forest floor. The guard needed no further emphasis before plunging into the woods, frantically racing to the north.
After a few moments, Paelec released his hold on Ryl. The phrenic archer rolled to the side, rising to a crouched position.
“Are you alright, Ryl?” he asked as he offered his hand.
“I’m fine, my friend,” Ryl offered as he accepted the assistance, rising to his feet. The snapping of branches continued in the distance, though the volume spoke of the progression of the guard to the north. “You play the part well.”
Ryl grinned as he clapped his phrenic companion on the shoulder.
“Make sure our friend here has the motivation to continue toward the west,” Ryl added. “Don’t follow him for long. We’ll depart as soon as we’ve secured the others.”
With a nod the phrenic slipped into the darkness, following the frantic crashing of the fleeing guard. Ryl felt the arrival of the others from the south a moment later. He turned to greet the remainder of his companions as they emerged from the darkness.
“Acting was not a skill I had expected you’d mastered, my young friend.” It was Cavlin’s voice that broke the silence. “They’ve been secured around a small stand of trees. One in that group will prove clever enough to slip their binds sooner or later. If not, the army from the south or the patrols from the sea will find them. Eventually.”
“Well done,” Ryl acknowledged. “Their arrival couldn’t have been more perfectly timed. The wagon will make the trip to Leremont substantially less tiring. Once the report reaches the army, word of Lord Kagran’s deceit will likely ignite the division he’s forged throughout the heads of the households. It won’t take a brilliant mind to understand the true makeup of the forces that march toward the wall.”
