by C. J. Aaron
On both accounts they had failed.
The sickness was upon them.
The Horde had been on their trail since the beginning.
There was no sign of pursuit throughout the day. Their eyes maintained a vigilant survey of the surrounding land for any evidence of movement. Ryl relied on his mindsight regularly to scan the area. He pushed out against the furthest boundaries of his range for signs of the telltale black shapes that he now recognized as their pursuers.
Though they were free from pursuit, bouts of unpredictable dizziness and hallucinations hindered their movement. While none were as visceral and potent as the one Ryl had experienced earlier in the day, they all required varying degrees of delay.
The dizziness proved far more problematic in its frequency and severity. Without warning Ryl would topple to the ground, his arms and knees receiving the greatest share of the abuse.
His pants were torn at both knees and blood leaked from multiple scrapes as they found shelter in a small opening underneath the overhang of a ledge. Ryl’s thickened skin relegated the injuries to little more than an annoyance. The terrain had grown rockier and dramatically more troublesome throughout the day. Still, from the peak of the ledge, there was no visible sign of green forest on the horizon.
Once under the relative security of their shelter Ryl collapsed, falling asleep almost immediately. As darkness fell, even without the benefit of Ryl's visions, the shadows moving across the ground just off the base of the ridge were evident. The mercenary now counted four separate shadows as they paced about slowly in plain view. Curiously, they had seemingly abandoned any attempt at stealth on their part.
Ryl’s sleep had become restless and fitful as the night progressed. Andr watched with his naked blade in his hand as the night slipped further by. The cave they’d found for shelter was small enough that Ryl’s sleeping body was less than a meter away, allowing Andr to check on him without having to forsake his watch. Throughout the night, Ryl's temperature rose steadily. The increasing heat radiating off his body warmed their cramped shelter.
The raging fever that wracked his body broke at a rapid rate that defied explanation. The unnaturally quick change was unsettling, but Ryl fell back into a comfortable sleep. Outside, the Horde maintained their distance, silently pacing from rock to rock. One hundred paces separated them, yet he could feel their haunting eyes watching him.
Ryl rose sluggishly to his knees. His relied on the shaft of the stone tipped spear to prop himself up. Andr turned his head at the sound, a worried smile cracking across his face.
“Do you see them tonight?” Ryl's whisper was hoarse and raspy.
“Aye. There are four of them,” Andr replied in a hushed tone, pointing his hand out into the night.
Ryl squinted his eyes, peering out into the dark. He quickly dropped to his knees, pressing down on the butt of the spear, bracing his body against it for support.
After a moment, Ryl looked up again, blinking a tear from his eye.
“Another episode?” Andr asked. There was no disguising the concern that riddled his voice.
“Just dizziness this time,” Ryl replied softly, forcing a small smile. “I can feel the shift in my body when the episodes are coming now. At least it gives me a moment to prepare.”
“You should lay back down,” Andr said patiently. The fatherly tone in his voice caught Ryl by surprise.
“No. I'm ok for now,” Ryl said quietly. “You need to sleep too. The time’s coming when I'll be more of a burden than I am now. Get your rest while you can.”
“Can you do this?” Andr asked.
Ryl was hesitant and unsure about his next move. The necessity for Andr to rest, to stay alert was crucial to their survival in the days to come. He focused, sending out a wave of sincerity as he mouthed the next words.
“Yes, I'm fine,” Ryl assured his companion. “The rest did me wonders. I'll shout if anything changes.”
Andr fixed Ryl with a look he'd never seen from the elder mercenary. His head tilted slightly to the side. The expression in his eyes, the subtle upturn of one corner of his lip chilled him to the core.
Ryl’s eyes grew wide as he watched Andr’s face slowly contort. The skin on his cheeks tightened, the shaggy hair shortened and the stubble disappeared. The expression remained, but the face had changed.
The face of his father stared back at him.
Ryl felt the impulse to scream. He felt the call to flee. He fought the desire to stab outward with the stone spear. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the vision to pass.
Andr was gripping him by the shoulders as he opened his eyes. For the first time, he saw fear in the mercenary’s eyes.
Ryl sent a wave of comfort that washed over his companion. Andr's iron grip on his shoulders softened. His head hung slightly as he turned for the back of the cave.
“Thank you, Andr,” Ryl whispered. “For everything.”
The mercenary pivoted his head back toward Ryl. A small, forced smile stretched across his face before he laid down on the cold, hard ground. His sword remained in its sheath though his hand closed around the hilt, resting the weapon carefully across his chest.
Ryl returned his watchful eyes back to the exterior, looking out across the drab landscape. Light from the moon, high in the cloudless night sky illuminated the area to the front of their cave. He could clearly make out the four shadows moving as they milled about with reckless abandon. Focusing his mind, he scanned the area for their signatures.
He was disheartened yet unsurprised to find two additional shadows lurking at the outskirts of his mindsight. One was situated to the right and one to the left of their position, hidden among the rocks of the ridge. Were the four in front, the creatures who moved carefree in plain sight, merely a distraction for a surprise attack from the side?
The hours passed quickly for Ryl; his focus remaining on the movements of the Horde. Both groups appeared content in their present locations. Those to the front continued to mill about at random. The individuals on both sides remained still. Could this all be a coincidence? Could the Horde merely be gathering of their own volition?
Information about the true capabilities of the Horde was a mystery. Few outside of Taben and the courageous phrenic defenders of old had witnessed their prowess on the battlefield. Seemingly devoid of tactics they had relied on sheer numbers to overwhelm their foes. In reality, this strategy would have worked had it not been for the small, gifted force that stood in their path. They had not counted on, nor could they comprehend, the abilities of the phrenics or the assistance the Erlyn Woods provided.
Ryl refused to believe that the gathering of the shadows that stalked the night before his eyes was a mere coincidence.
He suffered through several spells of dizziness, thankful for the seated position where he could brace himself against the rock door to their cave. The few bouts of hallucinations, while troubling, passed rapidly. His concern grew as his fever swelled. Ryl alternated between intense chills and raging heat. His body shook with such ferocity that he bit down on his cloak to stop the noise of his teeth chattering together. Moments later, he burned with an uncontrollable fire and sweat soaked through his tattered clothes.
Ryl struggled onward through the night until his body felt it could take no more. The last dizzy spell that had passed only a moment earlier was one of the worst yet. He had collapsed to the ground as the world around him spun with the ferocity of a storm. The nausea would have emptied his stomach had there been anything left in it to expel. He staggered to rise to his knees as he attempted to regain his focus. His vision was still blurred and he struggled to regain control of his mind.
With one final effort, he focused with all his might. The frantic scene burst into view.
Blackened silhouettes of the Horde to the front had increased their activity. They darted back and forth across the open area at a frenzied pace. To either side the shadows were close, silently streaking toward Andr and Ryl’s position, running along the t
op of the ridge. They would be on them in moments.
“Andr. They’re coming,” Ryl whispered urgently as he poked the mercenary with the butt of his spear.
Andr shot to his feet. His sword slid from its sheath with a muffled ring.
“One from the left, and right,” Ryl relayed as he jumped to his feet.
The sudden motion spurred an intense bout of dizziness that ripped through his weakened body. He stumbled to the right, digging the point of his spear deep into the hard, rocky ground. As he pushed back off the shaft to steady himself, the wood snapped under his weight and his body pitched forward.
Ryl’s forehead connected with the wall.
All went black.
Chapter 10
Light streamed into the small cave as Ryl blinked his eyes open. His head was still spinning slowly though the discomfort of the rotation was dulled by the throbbing from his right temple. Wave after wave of pain spread over his head; radiating down his neck, intensifying with every beat of his racing heart.
Andr knelt over him blotting the moisture from his forehead with a damp cloth. Ryl attempted to push himself up to his elbows, but a sturdy hand on his chest held him down.
“Gave me quite a scare last night,” Andr said honestly. “How are you feeling?”
Ryl felt weak. On top of the slow, continuous spinning and the throbbing of his head, a mild itch had begun on his chest accompanied by a dull burning sensation. At least for the moment, the fever had passed.
“I'm alive. I'm thirsty,” Ryl stated dryly. “What happened last night? The last I remember was calling for you, then hitting the wall.”
“It's a good thing you called when you did,” Andr admitted.
He worked his arm under Ryl's, carefully hoisting him into a sitting position. He helped twist his body sideways, so his ailing companion could lean his back against the wall. Andr passed him a half full skin of water.
“Drink carefully now,” the mercenary cautioned.
Andr motioned with his head toward the entrance to their small cave.
“See for yourself,” he commented.
As Ryl’s eyes shifted to the opening. The smell was the first impression to register with his senses. The putrid odor of death and decay he'd come to associate with the Horde was potent, choking the air with its intensity. His thirst dried immediately; he stoppered the water skin laying it on the ground at his side.
Streaks of blackish blood splattered the ceiling and walls. The ground was stained with a massive pool that stretched out the door, smearing outward until it reached the remains of their stealthy foes.
From his position, Ryl could see the deep red, nearly black bodies of their attackers. Their disproportionately long legs ended in slender feet tipped with long claws. Each hand was equipped with the same razor sharp, deadly weaponry.
The head of the closest one lay frozen in a deadly snarl, its unnaturally wide mouth nearly splitting its head in half; lined with row after row of jagged, pointed teeth. Its left arm was missing. Its torso bisected by two, deep slashes; horizontal and diagonal. The head of the other was nowhere to be seen.
“I'm sorry I collapsed when I did,” Ryl said dejectedly, lowering his gaze to the ground as his head slumped forward. “Are you hurt?”
“Don't apologize,” Andr reassured. “Their focus was entirely on you. Your sudden collapse caught them off guard. The first lost his head before he could react, and the second went down before it could put up a fight.”
“What of the others?” Ryl asked. Without waiting for an answer, he tried to focus in order to search for their telltale black signatures. It was with great effort that he succeeded in quieting his mind long enough to scan the area. There was no sign of the Horde within his field of inner vision.
“Much like you described the night before, the rest abandoned the area with haste at the first sign of light,” Andr recounted.
More questions rolled through Ryl’s head. Why had the others fled with the rising of the sun? They had to be aware they were facing only two adversaries. That one of them was severely weakened was apparent, yet they had chosen not to overpower Andr once Ryl collapsed. Something felt off about their use of strategy, stealth and their hesitance to overpower their remaining attacker. The Horde of the past would not have faltered. They would have swarmed over them with the full power of their numbers.
“Do you think you can walk?” Andr inquired.
“I think so,” Ryl answered. “Though I’m not sure for how long. The dizziness and hallucinations have been happening with alarming frequency, and now I fear there’s more.”
Ryl lifted his shirt, though his motions were sluggishly apprehensive. Andr sucked in an audible gasp at the first glimpse of his chest. Discolored splotches of bright red welts covered his bare skin. As if on command the burning itch intensified and he dropped the shirt over his riddled skin while he could still control the urge not to claw at it.
“If these foul creatures leave us alone during the day, we need to make up as much ground as possible,” Andr commented. “No offense, but you will not be taking anymore watches alone overnight.”
“You need to sleep though,” Ryl protested.
“We must cover as much ground as we can during the early hours of the day,” Andr continued. “As long as I can catch a few hours of sleep during the afternoon, I can keep up the night watch on my own.”
Ryl thought about arguing, but the effort would have been pointless. Aside from his ability to see the positioning of the Horde using his phrenic powers, he was a liability alone at night. As much as it pained him to admit it, it was a miracle they had survived the previous evening. His actions could have ended in their deaths. If it weren’t for the rapid response of the seasoned mercenary, their journey would have come to a tragic conclusion in an unknown cave in the wastes of the Outlands.
The pair quickly broke camp, thankful to leave the rancid stench of the dead Horde behind. Ryl fought the urge to vomit as they skirted past the corpses. They walked side by side as they made their way sluggishly to the north. Ryl draped his left arm over Andr’s shoulder. The guard held onto his left wrist to hold him aloft when the next dizzy spell robbed him of his footing. Ryl carried the broken remains of the wooden spear in his free hand. The length of the weapon was now reduced to nothing more than a dagger.
The ridge they had found shelter in the previous night continued heading in a northerly direction, though it twisted slightly toward the east as the day progressed. They followed its rocky base for the duration of their day. Frequent bouts of debilitating dizziness brought Ryl to his knees, bringing their progress to a standstill. The lingering fever had resumed shortly after midday, rapidly sapping the remaining energy from his addled body.
A single grove appeared in the distance, their only potential source of water and food for the day. The shelter of the grove appeared tantalizingly close, yet there was no way the pair would make it before nightfall. They needed to stop for Andr to rest before taking the long night’s watch. They had exhausted their inadequate rations of carrots the night before and the water was running dangerously low. Ryl had finished his water early in the day, Andr had taken only sips of his since, donating the rest to his ailing companion.
Their home for the night was a long, narrow cavern at the base of the ridge. They burned precious time for Andr to rest as the mercenary crafted a fire and makeshift torch to illuminate the cave’s interior; ensuring they were the only creatures inside. Ryl’s command of the phrenic mindsight became an ongoing struggle as the sickness progressed. The visions came to life with an uncontrolled spontaneity throughout the day.
Andr lay down to rest after the careful inspection of their cavern. The sun had a few hours before it dipped under the horizon yet the shadows on the eastern side of the ridge were stretching out long across the desolate landscape. The light would abandon them before long. Would the Horde return with greater numbers? Would Ryl be able to assist if they did?
The crevice the
y sheltered in featured a narrow opening. Andr could back his way inside, negating their numbers, forcing them to fight him one at a time. Ryl realized that he’d never seen him handle his sword in combat. The warm-up exercise, while impressive, was assuredly nothing like the real thing. The brief lesson was nothing more than a watered-down overview, one that would in most situations be taught to a child.
Ryl had positioned himself with his back against a small rock, just inside the mouth of the cave. His head still throbbed from the blow he’d taken the night before and the burning rash that covered his chest had spread out from his torso, wrapping around his back, stretching down his arms and legs. It was with difficulty that he fought the urge to scratch. He tried to call on the woodskin, yet he failed to maintain the focus long enough to effect any lasting change.
He sat forward, with his arms wrapped carefully around his knees. Ryl struggled to watch the world outside, desperately seeking to make sense of the area through the constant spinning in his mind. His focus and vision were sporadic. The bits he’d seen were clear of any incoming threats … though he began to distrust his own interpretation. He tried desperately to keep watch. He needed to let Andr sleep.
The stark reality of the situation chilled him. He was losing complete control of his body. Would it be a day, or would it be hours before his function slipped entirely from his grasp? He realized his life hung delicately in the balance. His hope of survival rested fully on the shoulders of a man he’d just met.
It wasn’t long before Ryl’s thoughts became incoherent. The fever had given way to the chills; the sound of his chattering teeth echoed into the still, late evening. Bouts of extreme dizziness followed, one after another; he toppled to his side, falling across the entrance to the cave. The agonizing burning from the swelling rashes stung every inch of his body that contacted the ground. His thoughts were frantic.
