by C. J. Aaron
His emotions threatened to tear him apart. Ryl knew all the names, recognized the faces as if they had departed only moments earlier. He relived the joy, the devastation, the ecstasy of thousands of lifetimes before him. Tears streamed down his face as the losses became insurmountable. He saw Laj. He saw Elias. The last image lingered as the visions faded.
Kaep’s form was silhouetted against the backdrop of the hidden city of Vim. The last rays of sunlight burned over the edge of the walls that disguised their home. Her hair, blown by the wind, burned auburn in the light.
Ryl blinked; his vision blurred through his moisture-filled eyes. His sight resolved on the vial still clenched between his fingers. In his hands he held the most coveted resource in the entirety of the kingdom. Those who pulled the strings, who had led the kingdom into the collision of morality, of fate that now loomed directly ahead desired this more than anything.
What he held in his hand was power.
Though his cheeks were still streaked with the salty stain of the tears that had poured unabated, he forced a smile. It was morbid and devious.
“It’s leverage, my friend,” he whispered. “It’s a means to an end.”
Chapter 38
The grim work in the facility above was underway when Ryl and Vox rejoined the others. Unlike the facility at Martrion, they had found nothing of use save for kindling among the rooms that bordered the sprawling chamber. A considerable pile was already growing near the center aisle of the facility.
The process took hours to complete; the sun had long abandoned the sky as they moved the last of the deceased into position. The gruesome process of carefully moving the wooden slabs was heartbreaking. Tears had stained the faces of all, washing salty lines of clean skin through the grime as the last of the tributes were laid across the pyre that was to burn their bodies to ash.
Ryl wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. Time was scarce; they had worked quickly to prepare the remains. There would be little rest this night; the morning would bring events that would shake the foundations of the kingdom to the bedrock.
At least that was his hope.
That they were walking into a trap, he was sure. Even so, it was the collision course he had set into motion. For meaningful change to occur, it was now unavoidable.
Ryl closed the door to the facility as he exited. The wide entrance room had been stripped of all furniture; even the wood paneling that covered the stone walls had been removed. Anything that would burn had been relocated. The only object saved from the pyre was the door leading to the courtyard and city beyond. He glanced downward, carefully scanning the sheet of parchment he clutched delicately in his hand.
The words blurred slightly as the moisture formed over his eyes. The single sheet of paper contained two columns, chronicling the known identities of the tributes who perished at the hands of the kingdom. Many entries were nothing more than a number, matched with the brand of the house and gender. Even between the combined knowledge of Ryl, Cray, Tash and Palon, few names were known. He choked back the tears that threatened to stream from his eyes as his gaze settled on two names he knew far better than most.
Laj.
Narisi.
They had been friends in The Stocks. The trio had been bound by the tragic fate of their Harvest cycle. The body of Narisi had been identified shortly after Ryl returned from the subterranean storeroom. She had been spirited, commanding an attitude and strength that dwarfed others that shared her plight. Ryl recalled with vivid detail the instant her spirit, her will had been broken. Her limp defeated body had been dragged through the Pining Gates, cast into the greedy arms of the lord who claimed ownership over her body and blood.
He had failed her.
He had failed them all.
The general numbness that coated his body faded as the heat of anger surged through his veins. The rage that grew seemed to spread outward from his core, leaving no fiber unaffected as it blanketed his body in searing heat. His left hand clenched into a fist, squeezing until his hand was white.
The gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder distracted him from the animosity that swelled inside. Ryl’s gaze snapped upward, focusing on the figure standing before him. Andr smiled as their eyes met, though the emotion written across his face failed to match the sentiment of the greeting.
“Walk with me, Ryl,” Andr offered as he moved toward the outer door of the facility.
Outside the confines of the facility, the city was blanketed in the darkness of the night. He was met immediately by a stiff breeze that blew from the south. Though it bore the heavy scent of brine, the aroma was cleansing. The fresh outside air and the mild chill of the temperature was revitalizing, though it only accentuated the waves of heat that churned through his veins. He noted the dim outlines of his companions, one at each corner, as they maintained guard over the facility.
Andr moved across the courtyard, leading them toward the trees that bordered the edge of the complex. He stopped as he reached the overgrown bed of grass that surrounded their trunks. His head tilted back slightly as he cataloged his surroundings. There was little to see of the city save for the diffused glow of the torches and lanterns that lit the streets and residences throughout. To the east, the lights of the raised capital complex were visible, vaulting above the concentric circles of Leremont like a mountain. Overhead the night sky was cloudless, dotted with a sea of numberless stars.
“I’ve seen that look in your eyes, Ryl.” Andr broke the silence. His words were colored by a surprising hint of fatherly concern. “It’s often been measured by a personal cost that’s nearly taken your life. Storming the palace before they are assembled for the Deliverance on the morrow will not accomplish what you intend.”
Ryl heard the words, yet failed to grasp the meaning. His mind rushed through the bevy of scenarios that were at his disposal. All ended with the palatial grounds covered in a wash of gore. Crimson ran down the streets in rivers of blood. The darkness, the murderous whispers from within demanded bloodshed. The voices surged in ecstasy at the reality that was within grasp.
The anger that burned white hot in his veins.
The complexity of the murderous rage was foreign.
Ryl focused on his breathing, concentrating on the deep steadying rhythm. With every exhale, his mind settled; the cloud of sheer anger, hatred, devastation that had numbed his senses, clouded his vision, lessened. After a few moments, he turned his head to his friend. The concern that had flavored his voice matched the look that was written across his face.
“Though I’d willingly sacrifice my life so that the tributes could live free, that never again would a child have to experience the torture that so many have endured, I’ve no intention of dying,” Ryl whispered. “Something has changed inside me, Andr. The darkness that’s corrupted the Lei Guard lives inside me now. There is nothing more I wish than to end the processes perpetuated by the Ascertaining Decree. Lord Kagran deserves death for what he’s done here. The visions that have controlled my mind, my emotions are not justice. They’re slaughter.”
Ryl looked down at his left arm. The throbbing that had risen in proximity to the small vial had remained constant, yet he’d ignored the clawing sensation, as the grim work had consumed his being. The sun that burned over his elbow was almost entirely black. The scars and pocks that marred its surface had multiplied over the hours. The black streaks stretched beyond his wrists, oozing like streaks of blood onto the back of his hand. He could feel the strength of the alexen in his veins, yet throughout his left arm the absence was noticeable, as if they’d been forced out by the darkness that fought for control.
His distraction, the complete overpowering numbness caused by the devastation, had nearly cost him. The darkness was taking hold. He’d broken the first tenant, the most important lesson that they had worked to install in the unawakened. It was a lesson that should have been hard learned at this point, taught at the risk of his own health. Uncontrolled emotions led to devastating
effects. The rage was blinding. The darkness had capitalized on the momentary weakness, clawing its way toward his riddled mind.
He knew the strength that flowed through his veins. Without full faculty, there would be no stopping the events that they had set in motion. Yet what would be the cost?
To his friends?
To him?
To the hope of those who remained concealed in the depths of the Erlyn?
How many countless lives, the children and families of future generations, were at stake?
Ryl squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the competing energies that battled within. The light and heat of the alexen struggled against the taint that he unintentionally welcomed inside. His distraction had tipped the scales in favor of the blight. In the wake of the restored calm that flowed through him, he could feel the tides shifting. The tingle of sensation coated every corner of his body. He hadn’t realized how truly numb he had become.
He could feel the alexen now as they powered through his body; they pleaded with him for calm, for patience as they struggled against the shadows that lurked within. He rubbed his left hand over his opposite arm. At first, the touch of his rough skin felt foreign, unnatural. His fingertips brushed over the tattoo of the delicate handprint interwoven between the vines and leaves.
A melodic voice sang above the rest. Though the words were unintelligible, the comfort the muffled notes carried was a salve to his embattled senses. The clarity of the moment, the tasks that were at hand, the path that needed to be followed became startlingly clear. For a moment, Ryl let the regret linger, though he banished the feeling long before it took root. The future was yet unknown; one day he’d carve out the time to mourn.
Today was not the day.
Fires of determination still raged in his eyes, yet his senses were lucid. The shadows of devastation, of doubt and regret, the fog that had consumed him had cleared. Much like the sun had pierced the remaining clouds of the storm, clearing the moisture from the air. He scanned the skyline of the city, focusing for a moment on the spires of the capital complex that rose in the distance. He could feel the malevolence of the nexela, the darkness of the corrupted Lei Guard. Their numbers moved, like a seething shadow at the extent of his vision, though none had approached. They would be reunited soon enough.
His vision swept from the palatial estates that dominated the peak of the ridge along the rooftops of the city below. He paused for a moment on the doorway to the facility. His mindsight painted the picture of those within. They would all be tested with the coming light of day. His attention focused on the trio of dimly illuminated signatures that appeared with his mindsight.
“Are they ready for what’s to come?” Ryl asked without preamble.
Andr sighed as he folded his arms across his chest.
“They are more prepared than many of the guards who will stand the line against them,” the mercenary responded. “Though their battle was limited at best, they’ve seen more action than most. You know as well as I that the commotion of the battle can defeat the unprepared as easily as a sword. It’s not the blades I fear.”
Ryl looked curiously at his companion, the man he’d grown close enough to to consider family.
“Then what is it?” he quizzed.
“You know the answer as well as I, Ryl,” he retorted. “It’s the emotion. I stopped counting the times it nearly killed you. I fear for them if we are assaulted by the Lei Guard. They have to know that we’re here.”
Ryl nodded his head. “I agree with that sentiment, my friend,” he admitted. “Lord Kagran fears spreading their numbers too thin. He will wait for us to come to him. He will spring the trap when he feels there is no escape from its grasp.”
“How do you intend to get into the Deliverance?” Andr inquired. “You’re not a butcher, Ryl. There is nothing that could prevent you, though I know you don’t intend on carving your way through the army to reach the throne.”
Ryl smiled as he shook his head. “It pains me to admit that I’ve thought of doing just that,” he answered. “There is no sense in killing the nest and leaving the snake. The power that flows within me has a purpose, and it is not for death alone. The phrenics were in place to guide, not rule. I need the Deliverance to bear witness to what happens in the morning. Balance must be restored. They must see for themselves. As always, our plans have evolved along the way. An opportunity has presented itself that is far too alluring to pass up.”
Andr squinted his eyes as he tried to comprehend the cryptic message.
“I need to ask, are you ready for what is to come?” Ryl asked the mercenary.
“You know I’ll follow you until the end, my friend.” The determination in his voice was unwavering. Ryl regretted the questioning, though the situation ahead presented the concern.
“Aye, I know,” he acknowledged. “Cray will need your strength, for I cannot leave him out. He needs to see.”
Andr shook his head in confusion for a moment. The mercenary ran his hand frustratingly through his hair.
“See what, Ryl?” Andr pleaded. “We don’t have time for riddles.”
Ryl cracked a pained smile as he met the eyes of his friend. “To see his mother,” Ryl responded.
An audible gasp preceded the emotion and the words that he knew would soon flow.
“I don’t see how seeing her will be anything but an unnecessary distraction.”
Ryl held up a hand, cutting off the mercenary, as his voice was quickly gaining intensity and volume. “Why cut your way through the guards when you can ride in comfort?” Ryl grinned. “Between the private retinue and consorts, they easily match our party’s size. Illusion can be a powerful thing. They’ll look for soldiers; few will bat an eye at the noble lord’s entourage.”
Andr shook his head, lowering his eyes to the ground as he pondered the idea. Ryl watched as his friend mentally ran the scenarios through the test of his mind.
“Understand that I cannot deny Cray the opportunity,” Ryl noted, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “These are the moments that haunt the dreams of any who’ve languished inside the confines of The Stocks. The opportunity to meet the origin of a lifetime of anguish is unheard of. He has the chance to do what none has done before. He can look her in the eyes and ask, why? He’ll have an answer, regardless of the truth.”
Ryl watched the mercenary as his body tensed and relaxed. His hands squeezed in and out of fists.
“Andr, are you ready?” he inquired.
It was several moments before Andr raised his gaze from the ground at his feet. He rolled his shoulders, stretching to his full height, and again matched Ryl’s gaze. The wicked grin that tugged up on the corner of his lips would have been answer enough.
“Thank you, Ryl,” were all the words he could muster.
“Do you want to tell him? Or should I?” Ryl inquired.
Andr let out a short laugh. It was pained, pitiful, more a release of exasperated energy than of joy.
“I’ve missed a lifetime of fatherly duties already.” Andr sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”
“I’ll send him out and prepare the others,” Ryl added, giving the shoulder of the mercenary a squeeze as he moved back toward the facility. He felt the intensity of the heat that raged inside swell as he approached the door. The truth of what remained inside ate away at him. Though the animosity still reigned heavily on his mind, his thoughts were collected. The wagon would be a boon not worth overlooking.
The morning would undoubtedly see bloodshed. He shook off the vicious images that had forced their way into his head, avenues running with rivers of crimson, bodies lining the streets. A massacre would do little to advance their cause. If anything, it would turn the population further against their cause. Ryl knew that rifts existed even among those who’d taken up the sword. Not all loathed the tributes with the animosity that he’d witness firsthand in The Stocks. Many followed blindly, as if they knew no better, perpetuating the continuation of a practice that had existed
for generations.
There were few preparations that remained in the facility. Ryl remained inside, allowing Andr a Cray their privacy as they discussed what was to come. The others cast curious glances at the exchange, yet none questioned the motives. There would be time to discuss the developments later.
The funeral pyre had been set, though he would not be there to witness the flames consuming the bodies of his fellow tributes. Ryl entered the cavernous chamber for the last time, viewing the tortured remains of the unwitting men and women. The moisture that filled his eyes was uncontrollable, though it evaporated quickly by the heat of rage that seethed white hot through his veins.
His eyes settled on Laj and Narisi, lying side by side atop the wood.
“Forgive me,” he whispered as he blinked away the tears.
The bulk of his companions waited in silence as Andr and Cray returned to the room. Fresh tears dampened the younger man’s cheeks; his face shifted between seething rage and uncontrollable fear. Andr nodded to Ryl as he entered a step behind.
Again, the party would separate as they sought to complete their tasks. Vox, Paasek, Nielix, Dav and Millis were grouped by the door to the chamber. Ryl stopped as he reached the phrenic elementalist, placing his hand on his shoulder. He sent a focused wave of gratitude over his friend. Vox replied with a subtle nod.
“Do not delay beyond the coming of day,” Ryl ordered. “Light the pyre, then join us on the avenue.”
With a final glance into the facility, he stalked out into the night.
“Let’s go,” he hissed to his companions who waited in the shadows. His heart ached as he mourned the losses that remained inside the doomed chamber. The fire burning in his veins scorched his insides as they merged into the night.
