by C. J. Aaron
Though the light of the moon and stars provided ample illumination for their movement, heavy shadows were plentiful. Ryl led the group as they moved through the alleys toward their destination. The narrow pathways were deserted, though in places, streaks of light emanated from the gaps in the withering frames of the buildings. Not far in the distance, the glow from the well-lit main avenue colored the darkness of the night sky.
Ryl paused as they reached the thoroughfare. They’d plotted their intersection with the road, arriving well to the south of their intended destination. Lanterns burned along both sides of the main avenue though arcs of shadows remained between the staggered halos of their light.
Above all, the inn burned the brightest, a glowing beacon along the sleepy avenue. The structure was taller than most surrounding buildings, stretching four stories high. Lanterns were hung from either side of the entrance; a pair of tall streetlamps flanked the corners of its front facade. The opulent wagon had been turned since its arrival, backed into the gap between the southern side of the inn and the neighboring building.
A lone sentry stood with his arms folded across his chest, blocking the entrance to the building. To the side of the building, a solitary guard moved about, ostentatiously checking on the horses. A second reclined on a bench along the side of the inn, his legs propped up on a wooden crate.
The inn had a single balcony that wrapped around the second-floor level. The warm glow of the lights inside provided the backlight, giving away the position of the roving guards that patrolled its length. They stuck to the shadows of the southern side of the inn where the balcony jutted out over the alley with the wagon.
Though the hour was late, the city was far from asleep. The atmosphere was expectantly jovial, yet there was a clear air of tension to the city. The changes that had swept over the kingdom had been dramatic. King Lunek the Third, the seemingly eternal ruler of Damaris, had perished. Word of his death leading an army of the Horde had only just reached the capital before the vacuum of power was filled by the strength of arms. Kagran had seized the city without open bloodshed, though in the shadows a few of his more vocal dissidents had perished.
The gates had never been closed for the Deliverance. The influx of citizens, merchants and nobles was a rapid, though short-lived boon to the economy. Though revelry still occurred, it was far less lively and far more sparce in numbers.
There were several small groups in the street, moving with varying degrees of soberness. Ryl watched as one such pair reached the doorway to the inn. Though he could hear none of the words, the meaning rang loud and clear through the night. After a few words were exchanged, the guard stationed at the door turned on the pair, hammering the first in his chest with his palms. The man toppled back, carrying his companion with him. The guard was upon them before they were able to stagger to their feet.
The point of a sword leveled against the throat of one conveyed the message that their presence was not wanted. Without a word, they scrambled to their feet, scurrying into the night. They disappeared into the first darkened alley not far to the north.
The wind moaned in a diffused whistle as it blew between the buildings lining the avenue. Ryl motioned to Andr; the mercenary stalked silently to his side.
“It looks like our presence will not be a welcome addition,” Ryl growled. “How many guards accompanied Lord Kyoris’s harem?”
“Eight,” Andr answered without delay. “Two rode on either side of the wagon with a pair at the rear. Though the drivers wore plain clothes, they were far too comfortable with the swords at their hips.”
Ryl nodded as he studied the exterior of the inn.
“Five outside. Three within,” Ryl noted.
“There is easy access to the balcony from the alley that runs behind the building,” Cavlin interjected as he sidled up beside the pair. “Their attention is focused on the road. I’ve seen your speed, Paelec. Can you handle the two on the balcony?”
The white of the phrenic’s teeth as his mouth curled into a grin was all that could be seen of his face through the shadows.
“Do we leave them alive?” His voice was even, emotionless as he posed the question.
“There will be plenty of opportunities for bloodshed soon enough,” Ryl noted. “As long as they are silenced before they can raise the alarm, I care not. Do what you must. Surprise would be beneficial.”
Paelec nodded his approval.
“Ramm, Palon and I will handle the two at the carriage,” Cavlin reported. “I suppose it won’t be too much trouble for the rest of you to handle the sentry at the door?”
Ryl rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh at the comment. He surveyed the lazy patrol of the guards along the balcony. The second guard along the side of the wagon leaned heavily against the corner of the wall, his partner likely asleep with his feet elevated. Without a hint of overzealousness, he was convinced he could handle the group on his own if needed, yet it was a relief being in the company of trusted companions.
He would arrive with Andr, Lenu, Cray and Tash in tow.
The solitary guard stood no chance.
“Signal once when you are in position,” Ryl requested. “Once we reach the corner of the inn, we’ll respond in turn. Dispatch them quickly and quietly. I think Ramm will make a more solid sentry than the one they currently have in place. Their guards patrol the southern edge of the building exclusively; it’s likely their masters are behind those windows.”
There were few words of encouragement as they split again into groups.
“See you inside,” Ryl whispered as they disappeared into the gloom of the alley behind them. Cavlin led his party further to the south, choosing a shadowed crossing further from the eyes that patrolled the inn. The massive frame of Ramm was the last to disappear into the gloom of the alley.
Time stretched on as Ryl waited for his companions to arrive at the predetermined location. Though he noted the glowing signatures of Paelec and Ramm moving steadily through his mindsight, his eyes failed to capture their crossing of the avenue to the south. After the display of aggression by the guard at the front of the inn, his hand remained firmly on the handle of his sword. Ryl could see the light reflecting off the hand’s width of the blade that he’d freed from its sheath. The citizens milling about in the street gave the building and its sentry a wide berth.
The other patrols, though steady, grew increasingly lax with every passing moment. The pair on the balcony above were frequently locked in conversation, ignoring the happenings on the avenue. Their counterparts by the wagon, hidden by the shadow of the overhang, were no more observant. One slumbered on the bench while the other used the wall to prop his body upright. Even from a distance, Ryl could see his head bob as sleep threatened to take hold.
An excited feeling of preparation washed over him.
The signal. The phrenics were in place.
“Did you feel that?” Ryl whispered to the unawakened still hiding in the shadows behind him.
“Aye, Ryl,” Tash responded first.
“Can others feel that as well?” Cray inquired.
Ryl was pleased by the question. Their instruction had been informed yet diligent since they had left the safety of the Erlyn. That they had grown was undeniable.
“That is an important question,” Ryl acknowledged. “The emotion was likely focused so that few others would take note, yet any in its path would have experienced the unexpected feeling. They could easily spot our location with their mindsight, so they knew where to target the message. We can discuss more of this later. It’s time.”
Ryl focused on the illusions as he stalked out from the shadows of the alley. The skin on his arms disappeared beneath a veil of gray cloth. The brands on his, Tash’s and Cray’s necks blurred; the angry red that defined their presence altered, disguising itself with a tone that matched their skin.
The sensation that accompanied stepping into the light was unnerving. Ryl feared little from the city that surrounded him. The Lei Guard remain
ed in the capital complex, and if soldiers had massed among the district, he was sure that their presence would be too hard to disguise.
They moved at a relaxed pace, a staggered group looking for another round of revelry before the night came to a close. Ryl’s eyes, his senses were anything but idle, scanning the surrounding buildings for signs of alarm. His mindsight catalogued the positions of the phrenics hidden among the shadows as they traversed the avenue.
The guard leaning against the wall beside the wagon watched them lazily. The pair on the balcony paid them no mind. Ryl closed his eyes, focusing on the signatures of the phrenics and the unawakened as they passed the corner of the inn. Less than ten meters separated them from the sentry manning the door.
“Lenu, mind if I take your arm for a moment?”
The councilor’s face contorted for a moment into an expression of annoyance at his whispered request, though she shrugged it off just as quickly. She wrapped her right arm under his left, locking their elbows together. Ryl focused, issuing the signal, the wave of urgency, toward his companions as he quickened his pace toward the entrance to the inn.
The unexpecting Vigil captain looked up at him; the smile that graced the stern features of her face failed to register in her eyes. Ryl chuckled to himself.
“Fear not, this accursed company will only last a few moments,” Ryl whispered in jest.
She leaned her head against his shoulder in a mock display of affection.
“Luckily for you there are three of us to carry you out when you overexert yourself.” The barb was mild natured, yet the meaning was sincere.
He nodded as they tracked ever closer to the door.
“The night is still young,” Ryl announced over his shoulder. “Who’s up for another drink?”
The thump of fists against skin was drowned out by the rousing cheer from Andr and Cray following in their wake.
Before the door to the inn, the guard angled his head to the south, squinting his eyes as he peered toward the wagon and his companions who remained in the shadows of the building. The noise had reached his ears; thankfully, the appearance of Ryl’s party presented a more immediate concern. His hand flexed on the handle of his sword.
“The inn’s closed,” the guard grumbled. Despite the gilded finery the man wore, there was no denying that he was a killer. He had an air about him that churned Ryl’s stomach. Images of the hunters flashed into his mind. Men who’d willingly butcher families to claim the runaway tributes. “Be gone. You’ll find nothing but the edge of my blade here.”
Ryl contorted his face into a look of incredulous shock. The look was replaced by a grin as he spoke. “’Tis a shame,” he called over his shoulder. “Drinks were on me too.”
Ryl slipped his arm from Lenu’s as he spoke. He dipped into the speed that awaited his call before the guard could issue his retort. Time froze as his left fist hammered into the cheek of the sentry. A spray of blood exploded from his mouth and nose as he spun around. As the man’s unconscious body twisted, he latched onto the guard’s tunic in the center of his back, holding his body upright. He let the time snap back to normal; a splatter of blood dotted the door.
His attack had been unexpected. The sheer speed of his motions were a blur even to the trained eye. Though there were still a few on the street, none would have registered the act with any certainty. From afar, the action had all the appearances of the guard turning to usher them into the inn.
“It looks like they are open after all,” Ryl grumbled. “Lenu, would you mind getting the door?”
Chapter 39
A waft of warm air pushed out from the inn as Ryl led through the doorway shielded behind the unconscious guard’s body. The mouthwatering aromas of food mixed with the hint of smoke from the fire that burned in the hearth on the opposite wall. Overall the room was well decorated, arranged in a tidy fashion that spoke to the care of its owners.
There were but five occupants of the room; none noted their entrance, as they were engaged in a heated conversation.
“Mind your words, old man.” The voice resonated from the first of the guards who’d accompanied Lord Kyoris’s harem. He hissed at the operator of the inn, who stood red-faced only a meter away. The pair stood at the front of a large, solid wooden bar that dominated the wall to their right.
“You’re likely to find your life and livelihood are more precious than a few of your wares,” he hissed as he puffed up his chest, taking a menacing step closer to the innkeeper. “Now, my lord’s ladies require food and drink. You will provide it, or I’ll find someone who will.”
For a moment, the wizened innkeeper held his ground, weathering the glare of the opulently clothed guard.
“Perhaps your daughter will be better suited to serve them,” he growled, adjusting the buckle of his belt before laying his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Or us, perhaps.”
The skin on the innkeeper’s face blanched white before flushing rosy as the anger surged through his body. Ryl felt the rage course through every fiber of his being as he registered the charge of the soldier. Across the room, a pair of similarly cloak soldiers struggled to contain a woman who resisted their unwarranted advances.
The haze of vengeance settled over Ryl’s eyes. His view of the surroundings constricted, leaving only the unwelcome instigators, Lord Kyoris’s men, in focus.
Ryl pushed the door closed behind him with his heel. The panel closed before the remainder of his party with an audible click that echoed throughout the room.
The guard instigating the elder innkeeper was the first to notice the presence of the newcomers. His attention swung from the sole proprietor to the figure who had entered through the door. Ryl’s body, supporting the frame of the unconscious guard before him, was hidden behind the limp frame of the man.
“What are you doing in here?” the soldier growled as he noted his companion’s unexpected appearance. His eyes widened, the look of agitation shifting quickly to curiosity as he noted the blood smeared on his face. The focus of the others remained trained on the writhing female struggling to free herself from their grasps. Ryl’s anger swelled beyond control.
With a flick of his arm, Ryl tossed the unconscious guard to the side. The moment of disguise provided ample distraction for his entrance. The limp body of the guard struck the wall to his left, crumpling to the floor in a heap.
All attention in the room now focused on the hooded figure standing before the door. The tail of his cloak rippled, waving out to the side as an unnatural breeze circled around him. Silence descended upon the room.
There were no words to exchange between the group. The body of the unconscious guard had yet to settle to the wooden floor as Ryl gave in to the speed that flowed through his veins. He struggled to keep the unbridled anger in check as he charged the unprepared soldiers. Though dressed in finery, suited like the nobles they represented, they were nothing but killers.
They stood no chance.
The guard confronting the innkeeper was the first to face Ryl’s devastating charge. His eyes had narrowed in anger at the sudden appearance of the stranger. The soldier worked to free his blade from its sheath as Ryl hammered his arm with a focused gust of wind, snapping it backward at an awkward angle. The guard spun on his heels from the force of the unseen assault.
Ryl darted forward, catching the spinning guard by the back of the cloak as he passed him on his right. He twisted his body, carrying the soldier with him. As he rounded, he released the helpless man. There was no give to the wood of the bar as the soldier impacted the solid frame, though the reverberations toppled a set of glasses.
Only a few meters away, close to the stairwell that led upward, the pair of guards had momentarily released their captive. Their movements were sluggish as Ryl commanded the speed that flowed within his veins. Free from the assault, the terrified young woman retreated toward the corner of the room. One guard snarled as he faced the intruder; the other had turned his back to the newcomer, making for the stairs at
his rear. Whether he sought to flee or protect his charges above was no concern.
The wind again swelled around Ryl’s arm as he charged the pair. The torrent released in a focused blast into the legs of the man who’d squared his body to face him. His body went airborne as his legs were wrenched out from underneath him. Ryl reached his side with his body still lingering in the air. He hammered his elbow into the back of the guard’s head, compelling his body to the ground with added force. The sudden gasp of the air rushing from the man’s lungs was overpowered by the slapping of his body against the floorboards.
A few steps away, the remaining guard had almost reached the stairs. His left leg was curled, seeking purchase on the first step, as Ryl caught him from behind. Grabbing a hold of the back of his tunic with his right hand, Ryl pulled the helpless man from the stairwell, dragging him downward. He caught him squarely in the face with his left fist, releasing his hold as a spray of blood, mixed with a few teeth, splattered from his mouth. His head ricocheted off the ground; his body slid into a heap, toppling a table in the corner as he skidded across the floor.
Time snapped back to normal; the dizzying change rushed by as Ryl released the hold on the speed. The bodies of the four guards were unmoving, crumpled in heaps where they had settled. The innkeeper’s mouth lolled open; his daughter froze in her retreat at the shocking change that had overtaken the room. Neither made a sound. Errant drops of blood pattered to the floor in a staccato rhythm. A glass, unseated by the commotion, rolled along the surface of the bar. There was a moment of silence as it slipped over the edge before shattering on the floor.
Ryl turned his attention to the woman huddled in fear against the back wall of the room.
“Are you hurt?” he inquired as he knelt before her, offering his hand.
His words were sympathetic, yet only induced the woman to shrink further from the menace that had devastated the room in the blink of an eye. They had likely heard the rumors of the mysterious cloaked warriors who had disrupted the Harvest. Stories of the battle before the Pining Gates had likely been exaggerated into wild proportions. The news in the capital would likely have turned Ryl and the phrenics into demons. Vicious enemies intent on nothing but death. Hearing the mythical tales and bearing witness to their power firsthand were two strikingly different situations.
