by C. J. Aaron
“We never saw them during the daylight. That is, I never saw them,” Andr stated. “Until today.”
“Could the boy see them?” A voice from behind asked.
Vox materialized from the edge of the woods, striding up to the group. Andr noticed his feet dragging ever so slightly as he walked. What toll did the fire that flowed from him take on his body?
“Yes,” Andr nodded, turning his head to Vox. “Not with his eyes though. He explained that he could see them with his mind. I believe what he said, but I admit, I don’t understand.”
“Nor would you,” Deyalou snapped.
Andr picked up a hint of animosity in his voice. He ignored it for the sake of his saviors.
“They followed us during the day today, blocking us from reaching the forest,” Andr continued. “They drove us into that glade. Until tonight, we’ve been lucky enough to find shelter inside caves in the ridges. That giant rock in the clearing was the best defensible position I could find. They came moments after nightfall, I would guess there were forty of them.”
“That’s far too large for a scouting party,” Ramm grumbled curiously.
“I assure you, their intentions were not to scout,” Andr snapped, more forcefully than he’d intended. “They were there for blood. I can handle a sword, yet I admit it would have been a hopeless battle. If not for him.”
Andr motioned to the still form of Ryl.
“He hadn’t been lucid once all day,” Andr added, as the reality of what had occurred sank in. He continued his own story in disbelief. “Their attack was imminent; you could feel their anticipation in the air. A moment later a sound erupted from him, a sound nothing like I’ve ever heard before. Nothing like I’d ever want to hear again.”
“The cries of the fallen,” Vox said reverently.
The three others nodded their heads in approval.
“Please carry on,” Vox said politely.
“I turned my head and Ryl was standing behind me,” Andr continued. “He’d been too dizzy to stand for days, yet there was no waver to his step. He tore through them like a whirlwind of death. It was over in a blink of the eye. Your attack was fast, his was like lightning. When the destruction was over he stopped in front of me. I watched the fire and the fight retreat from his eyes. The glowing blades in his hands vanished and he collapsed. The next attack came shortly after. You know the rest.”
The four cloaked warriors shared a look between themselves, though they said not a word. The silence in the clearing stretched on. Andr looked from shadowed face to shadowed face.
“The weapons he used; do you still have them?” Vox asked curiously.
“Yes,” Andr said, reaching into his pack, withdrawing the innocuous sticks. “They’re here. He made the bracers he still wears to keep them at hand. Never explained that they could do this. He never explained that he could do what he did either.”
“It’s no wonder he didn’t. May I?” the nameless, faceless archer asked, reaching for the sticks.
Andr eyed her skeptically for a moment.
“If we wanted to take them from you, we could,” she stated bluntly. “If we meant you harm, we’d have left you to the Horde. You’d already be dead. We’ve been expecting you. Just not so soon.”
Andr tilted his head to the side, regarding her curiously at the statement. Who knew of their passage?
“I promise to return them,” she continued, unfazed by the look. “At the present, you have no choice but to trust us.”
Andr acknowledged the painful logic in her voice. There was nothing he could hope to do in the face of such terrific strength and speed. Without Ryl, he doubted his sword would clear its sheath before they would react. Begrudgingly he reached out, handing the sticks to the faceless archer.
Vox moved a step closer as she carefully passed the weapons to the curious warrior. He examined the plain wooden sticks, scrutinizing their every detail as he turned them over in his hands.
“If I’m not mistaken, I recognize these,” Vox whispered. “Relics from a time long since passed. No one’s seen these in over a thousand cycles. They have stories to tell, of that I’m certain.”
He delicately handed the Leaves back to Andr before stepping back, taking his place behind the archer. Andr nodded in thanks.
“Thank you,” Andr said emphatically. “Yet, it’s hard to trust someone who refused to show their face.”
The four froze, their shadowed faces focused on him. He could feel their icy glares staring down at him.
“Tell me then, friend,” she said, echoing the same forceful approach Andr had taken. “What is it you were looking to find out here past the boundaries of civilization?”
“We were sent here,” Andr stated. “We were sent to find the phrenic.”
The group standing over him exchanged glances again. The nameless archer took a step closer.
“Phrenic. That’s not a name we’re used to hearing, especially from an outsider,” she spoke softly, reaching her hands up, slowly removing the hood from her face. “Well, the Phrenic you have found, my friend.”
Chapter 20
The first thing that struck Andr was how young she looked. Shoulder-length brown hair tumbled out from under the hood as she pulled the cloth back from over her face. Her flawless skin still showed the innocence of youth. Her thin lips turned up into a slight grin. A pleasant smile and gentle features belied the incomprehensible lethality disguised beneath.
There was the rustling sound of leaves from the forest at the edge of the clearing. Three cloaked warriors emerged from the tree line. A single sleeve was missing from each of their cloaks; the moonlight illuminated their bared, tattoo covered arm. Two carried longbows over their shoulders, quivers now empty—the third they supported between them.
All heads turned in their direction as they entered the clearing.
“Is he alright?” the archer inquired. “Where's your fourth?”
Deyalou and Vox hurried to assist the approaching group.
“Aye, he'll be fine,” spoke the warrior on the right of the newly arriving group. “He pushed too hard, just needs rest. Ghen’s fine too. She stayed behind in case any of the Horde tries to enter the woods.”
They laid their companion down on the ground a few paces from Ryl. He appeared to be in a deep, peaceful sleep, Andr could see the rise and fall of his chest through the cloak that covered his body. The hood still hid his face from view.
“Quite the group you riled up tonight, Kaep,” he said as he pulled the hood back over his head.
Again, Andr was met with a face much younger than he'd expected. The young man couldn't have been much older than Ryl. He shook hands and embraced the four gathered around Andr and Ryl.
“Don't thank us,” Kaep said. “It was the boy they were chasing. He fended off a scout of forty before we arrived. We fell upon nearly two hundred. A bane was at the lead, Paelec.”
Paelec, the new archer to arrive, let out a low whistle in surprise.
“How many tailed us to the woods?” Kaep continued.
“Too many to count. Thousands. More than I’ve seen in a lifetime,” Paelec admitted.
“I’ve never heard of numbers that high,” Kaep interjected. “You got here just in time. Thank you. Why'd the council send you?”
“Everyone heard that scream,” he admitted, examining Ryl with his questioning eyes. “Everyone with the vision to see saw that beacon of light. I don't need to ask if that's him. He's still nearly blinding.”
All phrenics gathered nodded their heads in agreement.
A long whistle sounded from afar, starting low before raising in pitch at the end. All conversation in the clearing went silent. Paelec inclined his head closing his eyes; listening for a second signal. The night returned to its unbroken calm.
“Rhoane, get back to Ghen,” Paelec ordered. “See what she needs.”
The other cloaked figure that had assisted him in carrying their companion back to the clearing nodded before hurrying b
ack into the trees. He melted back into the tree line without a sound.
“I thought your ability to see could only work a short distance?” Andr asked breaking the silence.
Paelec looked at Kaep, surprise in his eyes. She nodded subtly before speaking.
“He knows. At least a portion of the truth,” Kaep admitted. “Understand that you’re still a stranger to us. There is an extent to the information that will be divulged for now.”
“I understand,” Andr replied.
“I see no harm in elaborating on that which you already know,” she explained. “All phrenic possess the ability to see to a varying degree. As with any skill, proficiency is enhanced through training, though some are naturally more gifted. Most of us can see several hundred paces with ease. A few can see considerably farther.”
“How many of you are there?” Andr asked inquisitively.
“For now, you know us for those you see in front of you. Please do not ask for more,” she said, a disquieting edge to her voice. “When your friend called to us, we were close to five miles away. To see that far is unheard of.”
“And we were nearly double that distance,” Paelec interjected. “Yet, all saw it clear as day.”
The cloaked figure that had melted into the woods at the signal from their companion strode back into the clearing, stopping before Kaep and Paelec.
“The scouts are still there,” Rhoane announced, a hint of concern in his voice. “They’ve never strayed this close to the forest and remained. I’d guess their numbers are at least a thousand strong. Nothing about this feels right.”
“Thank you, Rhoane,” Paelec acknowledged. “I agree. We need to leave as soon as possible. See if there’s anything Vox can do to help Taq, then see to making a litter to carry our friend here.”
Andr gingerly rose to his feet. His muscles resisted the effort; he felt like he’d aged a decade in the last several days. Paelec and Kaep looked at him curiously. Paelec chuckled quietly.
“No offense, but I think you should rest,” he said with a sarcastic smile. “We only need one litter for now. We don’t want to make a second for you. You look as if you’re going to drop dead any moment. Save your strength, we still have a long walk ahead of us.”
Andr opened his mouth to complain but swallowed his stubborn pride, nodding his head in agreement. He sank back to the ground beside Ryl. Paelec whispered something to Kaep before turning back to see to his resting companion.
Ryl let out a low, pained moan as his body wracked with a short, but violent, convulsion.
“Is there anything you can do to help him?” Andr asked, pleading for some succor for Ryl’s agony.
“I’m sorry,” she responded. “There’s nothing we can do here. The menders will know what to do when we return.”
“Return where?” Andr inquired.
“In time, you will see,” Kaep responded cryptically.
She turned away, rejoining the rest of her group several paces away from where he and Ryl remained. Their conversations were hushed, yet animated, though Andr couldn’t make out a word.
The mercenary looked down at Ryl. His condition appeared to have improved marginally since they’d entered the forest. Following the brief spasm, Ryl had quickly settled back into a comfortable sleep. The random twitches of his eyebrows, the squinting of his eyes, however, painted a different picture of the continued agony he endured. He was confident that Ryl still suffered. Andr stretched his legs, rolling out his feet; his entire lower body throbbed from overexertion. His exhaustion was extreme, yet he couldn’t bring himself to sleep.
While they were likely among friends, friends to whom they both owed their lives, there was more than an underlying hint of distrust in their words. Not that he could honestly blame them. How long had they survived, undetected in the wilds of the Outlands? Never in all his cycles had he heard reference or hint of a community of any size outside the border of the palisades.
Kaep approached again, handing over a small parcel wrapped in cloth. Andr looked at the package in his hand then questioningly back to her.
“Food for you,” Kaep offered. “Meals can be pretty scarce in the Outlands.”
Andr shook his head knowingly. They’d survived almost exclusively on the gritty carrots since they’d arrived.
“How did you get yourself involved in all of this?” she asked curiously.
Andr opened the cloth carefully. A small piece of bread and salted meat awaited him. His mouth watered at the sight. He struggled to maintain his manners before devouring the welcomed rations.
“I was a guard in The Stocks before taking a position with Ryl's sponsor,” Andr admitted, regretting the words immediately.
Andr found himself on his back, the short blade in Kaep's hand pressing ever so slightly against his neck. Her knee dug into his chest pinning him to the ground. Her eyes burned with a fire that reminded him of Ryl.
“Explain yourself before I end your life here,” she hissed. Her companions in the clearing had gathered several paces back, hands hovering over their weapons.
“We may be sheltered, but all know of the vile place you call The Stocks,” she cursed. “We know of the guards and of their treatment of those who are like us. We know of the sponsors who trade gold for the life of a child. You represent all three. Three of the very things we despise the most.”
Andr swallowed, the edge of the blade pushed deeper against his throat.
“Don't assume you know anything about me, my reasons, or the sponsor who paid for his freedom,” Andr growled.
“Lives cannot be bought and sold,” Kaep scolded. “We are not a crop to be purchased.”
“And there our beliefs are aligned,” Andr spat, the anger in his voice spread. “Ryl's sponsor was the reason he was freed in the first place. At the potential cost of his own life, the boy’s death was staged. We know nothing of their fate after the explosion at sea that gave us the cover to reach the Outlands undetected.”
“And you conveniently had a change of heart?” she snapped in retort. “Had your fill bullying the defenseless tributes until your sentence ran out? For what salacious crimes were you being punished that warranted a stint in The Stocks?”
“I fought with every pathetic excuse for a guard who stood in my way,” Andr cursed. “I never harmed a tribute through word or deed. The Stocks were my ultimate goal, none would stand in my way.”
“Don't insult me, sell sword,” Kaep spat. “No one wants to be in The Stocks. You're telling me you fought your way to get inside the walls. What could you possibly want from The Stocks if not violence?”
Andr pushed his upper body forward. The pressure from the knife blade released slightly as he glared at the phrenic pinning him to the ground.
“My son. That's who,” Andr growled at the phrenic.
He sunk back to the ground exhausted, mentally and physically defeated. Kaep withdrew her knife, sliding her knee off his chest. The mood in the clearing had been tense; the oppressive feeling of animosity was now replaced by a feeling of sorrow.
“I needed to see my son,” Andr whispered. “I was gone on a job. We were betrayed by one of our own. My return took longer to return than I'd hoped. I came home to find my wife had sold him to the highest bidder. Sold everything we owned.”
“Why would you leave your son to follow him,” Kaep probed, though the fire in her eyes had cooled.
Andr looked to Ryl again. He’d worked hard to see his boy, to be as close to him as possible. In truth, he hadn’t had much choice in his departure from The Stocks. Lord Eligar had him removed from the guards the moment he received news of Ryl's rescue. He could have protested, refused the assignment. That action would have raised too many red flags.
In retrospect, it had been the right decision. What could he have done, anyway? He’d only seen fleeting glimpses of his son from afar. He couldn't just walk up and speak to him. For all he knew the boy blamed him for his incarceration, or for the cursed blood that flowed within his veins
.
He had been working on borrowed time as it was. His superiors would have seen through his cover story and discovered him before long. Choosing to remain in The Stocks after receiving a posting, considered by most to be the job of a lifetime, would have sealed his fate.
He considered it somewhat of a miracle that his identity had not been recognized earlier. His exploits throughout a lengthy career as a mercenary were well known among certain circles. That was a profession not generally known for fostering long lifespans.
Yet even with all that, there was something more that had swayed his decision. Lord Eligar had given him the choice to carry on as Ryl's guide and protector; a contract that carried the near certain possibility of death. The financial pay offered was enormous should he return, although largely immaterial.
Eligar had additionally promised to work behind the scenes to purchase the sponsorship of his son from its current holder. The news of his near death and the destruction of his crew, the ship and its precious cargo would undoubtedly spread through the court like wildfire. The Lord Kyoris, a high standing councilor in the opulent House Sarnic, was a man with multiple tributes to his name. Whether the Lord Kyoris had a sentimental bone left in his body was left to be seen. As was the norm with his lot, money often talked.
There were still more unexplainable reasons. The whisperings on the wind as he raced through the Erlyn spoke to him of hope. At the time, the voice was unbelievable. He was less inclined to trust that which he couldn’t see. That he couldn’t understand.
Then there was his gut. He'd long since learned to trust the feelings that came from within; they'd saved his hide on far too many occasions. It was a lesson instructed with a near fatal outcome. There was something inside, an overpowering voice that screamed to him. It pleaded with him to stay with Ryl, that the boy needed him.
That the boy was his son’s only chance for freedom.
That the boy was destined for so much more than a life in captivity.
“There's something about Ryl, something I can't explain,” Andr continued. “From the first moment I met him, I’ve been drawn to him. Against hopeless odds, he stood up to the guards to right an unconscionable wrong. That brand of determination and morality is something this world needs more of. It's infectious. I will follow him to the ends of the earth if I have to.”
