by C. J. Aaron
Andr stretched his arms, locking his fingers behind his head as he relaxed back into the couch.
“What I do know is mundane, yet surprising,” he admitted. “The city is known by the name of Vim. It was founded well over one thousand cycles ago. Its total population has grown to over sixteen thousand individuals.”
Ryl was astonished. How had a city of that size maintained its secrecy for so long? Andr continued before he could interject.
“There were two scout details of four phrenics that came to our aid in the clearing and the resulting move to the forest,” Andr commented. “I’ve only seen two of their faces enough to recognize them today. Kaep, who you met earlier, led the first detail. A man by the name of Paelec led in the second group that assisted in our return.”
The clarity that had resolved in Ryl’s head after he’d awoken had become more clouded with the passing of time and strain from using his skills. The questions that had filled his mind moments earlier slipped through his grasp like dry grains of sand through his fingers. He struggled to make sense of the information.
“Please, tell me how we made it here safely,” Ryl begged. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“You’ve been out for nearly a week,” Andr said. “Whatever potion they’ve been feeding you has worked wonders to counteract the poison. The good mender hasn’t stopped gaping over the accelerated rate of your recovery.”
An unexpected smile tugged up on the corner of Ryl’s lips as the images of his friend, Mender Jeffers sprang into his head. Jeffers too had been beside himself with the progression of his healing after the incident with the sub-master in Tabenville.
Andr continued with the tale of their rescue by Kaep and her scout detail. Ryl listened in awe at the story of their fortuitous arrival and the short, lopsided battle that followed. His heart raced at the description of their flight from the swarm of the Outland Horde as they sprinted for the forest.
“How were the phrenics able to find us?” Ryl asked. So engrossed was he with the story, that he hadn’t realized his body had inadvertently leaned forward, seeking the information like a moth to the flame. He eased himself back against the wall as a wave of exhaustion crashed over him.
“It was you that led them to us, Ryl,” Andr said thankfully. “Whatever you did in the clearing was visible to them from here. They’ve never elaborated with me what it was, I suppose it was something like whatever you did to call them here today.”
Ryl wondered if he looked as confused as the mercenary. His memory of his actions in the clearing were fragmented, frozen into still images of the massacre that ensued. His body had acted out of desperation. The results, while devastating, had been the signal that led to their rescue.
“We must have been near to the city for them to see it,” Ryl commented. “How close had we come?”
Andr shook his head.
“Ryl, we were somewhere in the range of ten miles away,” Andr stated incredulously.
Ryl’s mouth fell open at the sheer distance.
“How’s that possible?” he questioned, not really expecting his friend to know more.
“I don’t understand it either,” Andr answered, shaking his head slowly. “Now that you’re awake, I’m confident you’ll have the answers to your questions soon.”
As if on cue, the shuffling sound of feet from outside the door heralded the return of Mender Brasley. He carefully opened the door with one hand, steadying a small cup and saucer in his other. A light trail of steam wafted up from the heated liquid inside.
The exterior of the cup was polished to a shine. A beautiful, forested scene in vivid greens and browns wrapped around the glossy white exterior. Ryl marveled at the perfection of the artwork.
The mender stopped a step away from him, delicately holding the cup away from his body. The air carried with it a mild hint of flowers barely noticeable through the potent smell of death. The look of disgust must have been evident on Ryl’s face.
“Forgive me, Ryl,” Brasley said apologetically, forcing a small smile. “This will not have the most pleasing of tastes. We’ve tried to mask the flavor, I’m afraid it doesn’t do much to help the final remedy. Careful not to get it on your hands, the scent will linger.”
Ryl groaned. He had grown tired of hearing that line repeated time and time again. First the foul-tasting treatment in The Stocks, now the remedy.
Cautiously accepting the cup and saucer from the mender, he peered into the delicate looking vessel. The impressive artwork that wrapped around the outside of the cup carried over into its interior. Ryl marveled at the skill and the time it must have taken to complete such a work of art. The exquisite designs disappeared into a small sea of putrid smelling, clouded brown liquid.
Sucking in a deep, steadying breath through his mouth, Ryl rushed to down the vile concoction—the last gulp nearly forcing his body to expel the liquid. He closed his eyes struggling to hold in the remedy. His mind latched onto the only joyous thought it could: he concentrated on the revolting solution ridding his body of the poison that had hindered it for so long.
The effect was poignant enough to stop him from vomiting the appalling potion.
The taste was almost as horrid as the pills that had masqueraded as his treatment. This time, however, the foul aftertaste was nothing compared to the bite of the bittersweet thoughts of Mender Jeffers and the tributes who remained in The Stocks.
Chapter 26
Ryl crumpled back into his bed. His body was drenched in sweat. His breaths came in rapid gasps. The speed of his recovery continued to eclipse the mender’s expectations, yet in his present state he regretted pushing himself as hard as he had this morning.
He’d woken from the sickness induced stupor less than two days prior. The debilitating symptoms had thankfully subsided as his body overcame the toxic treatment that had been fed to him for nearly half his young life. Ryl felt healthy for the first time in weeks and he was eager to stretch his legs and get a feel for the surrounding city. His early morning walk had set the lofty goal of completing a single lap around the city’s outer loop. In retrospect, his expectation was set far higher than the reality of the strength he possessed.
Vim was larger than Ryl had thought possible. The city was situated inside a massive natural bowl, surrounded by the sheer faces of the Haven Mountains. Two large perpendicular avenues bisected the sprawling city, forming a large central square where they intersected.
From his brief conversations with Mender Brasley, and his view from the small window of his room, he'd learned little of the city. The main north-south avenue, the Northfate, connected the solitary, gated entrance to the city in the south to the entrance to the mines on its northern edge. The avenue running east-west, the Westfate, ended in the Council Seat and Great Hall to the west; the eastern end terminated into a small park at the banks of a natural pool. A narrow waterfall that careened down the mountainside fed the pond, which ran into a large stream that traveled along the cliff face bordering the eastern and northern walls of the city.
The area to the east of the Northfate was dominated by vast fields of crops. A small army of men and women tended to the various plots of land that constituted the bulk of the diet for the inhabitants of Vim. Ryl shuddered at the sight of the swaying fields of wheat; his mind transported back to his daily assignments within The Stocks. He abhorred farming—an occupation he endeavored to leave in the past.
Ryl had made it roughly halfway around the outskirts of the city. Andr, his ever-present companion, kept pace with his shuffling strides before his fatigued body failed him. They’d started out from their residence heading eastward. The plan was to follow the paved path that circled the city starting with the fields before making their way through the more residential and business districts of Vim to the west.
It became readily apparent that his plan would be a fruitless pursuit. The pair were forced to abandon their circuit of Vim, turning back toward the south, following the Northfate through the heart o
f the city.
With his arm braced over the mercenary’s shoulder, Ryl and Andr shuffled their way along the eastern side of the main avenue. Attempting to avoid the bustle of the central thoroughfare was difficult. Even early in the morning, the avenue was brimming with activity.
Ryl felt overwhelmed by the drastic change in the volume of people that surrounded him. Compared to the sleepy, tortured confines of his previous home, Vim was alive with energy, activity and promise. He felt the cautious stares of the citizens. He heard their whispers of uncertainty as they stumbled past.
The curious attention and hushed conversations that followed them were far from reminiscent of the treatment he’d received in The Stocks, or in his brief parade through Cadsae Proper. There was no animosity in their voices or actions. The looks were guarded, yet sympathetic. The walls of the mountains that rose all around him, though adding a hint of claustrophobia, felt comforting compared to the shadows of the palisades he’d lived between for the last eight cycles. Andr, for his part, seemed unfazed by the commotion as they returned to the relative peace of the small, private clinic they called home.
In truth, Andr had been offered residence inside one of the sprawling underground residences hidden within the mountainside surrounding Vim. The loyal mercenary had chosen to remain by Ryl's side as he worked through his recovery. Andr spent his time in the small room across the hall from Ryl, or on the couch at the foot of his bed.
“Take care not to push your recovery before your body is ready, Ryl,” Andr warned.
Although not close to the same extent as Ryl, Andr breathed heavily. He had shouldered the bulk of Ryl's weight as they limped their way back through the city. Even as emaciated as he’d become, the added weight was still a burden.
The mercenary’s lips curved into an errant smile.
“We passed far too many people crossing the central square,” Andr remarked. “Mender Brasley's sure to hear about it.”
“Sure to hear about what?” came the booming voice of the rotund Mender from the hallway.
The mender entered through the open door to the room. A trail of steam wafted off the piping hot cup of the remedy balanced carefully on the saucer in his hands.
“You couldn't be referring to your failed attempt at making a circuit of Vim, now could you?” Mender Brasley questioned plainly. “You must think I'm daft if you imagined for one moment I'd not find out about your excursions. You two are still very much strangers here in a city that never entertains outside guests.”
The mender paused a pace from Ryl’s bed.
“For once, I do not even feel the slightest twinge of remorse for the vile concoction you must now take to hasten your already remarkable recovery,” he admitted.
Brasley handed the remedy to Ryl, smiling wolfishly once the cup and saucer had left his fingers.
“Enjoy,” was all he said.
Ryl smiled back, choking down the putrid liquid without taking his eyes off the mender. He managed to swallow the entire dose in a single gulp. Maintaining a straight, impassive face was a monumental accomplishment. He pulled off the feat … with the exception of a single, involuntary twitch of his eye.
“Now it’s time for you to rest,” Brasley said. “I can hold the Council back no longer. I’ve granted their desire to meet with you. The two of you will be joining them this evening.”
Ryl lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing as he concentrated on preventing the vile mixture from escaping his body. He could feel the warmth of the liquid in his stomach, sensed it course through his veins, forcing his body to secrete the toxin.
“I’d like to wash up if possible,” Ryl whispered without opening his eyes. “I’m afraid I won’t make for pleasant company with how awful I smell.”
“Aye, that you wouldn’t, my friend,” the mender agreed. “I have young Ticco drawing baths for the pair of you now, as well as fresh sets of clothes. I’ll be back to fetch you when they’re ready.”
“Thank you for all of your help, Brasley,” Ryl said politely.
“Make no mention of it,” the mender said. “It’s your body that’s done the greatest share of the work. If only all of my patients healed like you.”
The mender’s voice trailed off as his sentence ended. He nodded before leaving them alone in the small room.
Aside from their brief visits with the mender and the few pieces of information Andr had gleamed from his solo excursions throughout the city, Vim remained a mystery to them. Whether out of deference to the mender’s instructions, or as a result of the orders of another, they’d been left alone since Ryl had awoken.
“Andr?” Ryl asked, cautiously opening his eyes to not unsettle his seething stomach. “What do you know about the Council?”
Andr stretched as he looked out the window toward the fields in front of him.
“Unfortunately, like all else here, I know little,” Andr said with a sigh. “From what I’ve overheard, the council is composed of only five members. The citizens of the city elect them to serve only a single term at a time. That is extent of the knowledge I've been able to gain on the subject.”
“Thank you,” Ryl said appreciatively. “It's a world more than I’ve been able to uncover.”
“Ha,” Andr laughed aloud. “Well, if you spent your days doing more than just sleeping, who knows what you could learn.”
As Ryl chuckled along with his friend, he was struck with the profound realization of how vastly different his life had become within the last moon.
He had gone from slave, to a free man. From prey, hunted by an unseen darkness in the vast wilderness of the Outlands, to a patient under the watchful care of a society the world knew nothing of.
Mender Brasley knocked softly on the wooden frame of the door as he entered the room with his apprentice in tow. Ticco carried two sets of spare clothing in his hands.
“Gentlemen, follow me please,” the mender ordered politely with a smile. “Cleanliness awaits.”
Andr moved to Ryl’s bedside offering his hand to help him up. Ryl was thankful for the assistance. The effort of the day had sapped a good portion of his remaining strength. His muscles protested the action, feeling rigid and painfully sluggish to react.
Holding Andr’s shoulder for support, the pair shuffled after the mender and his apprentice. Exiting their small room, the hallway traveled to the left and right. Small lanterns lit the space in a muted glow. As with the decor in their room, the craftsmanship was exquisite, despite the banal ingredients.
To their right, the short walkway led to a wooden door that opened to the city of Vim, a few hundred meters to the east of the regal staircase that led to the city’s exit. The door to Andr’s room lay across the hall from his. A single door remained closed on the opposite side of the hall, closer to the outer exit. Ryl didn’t need to ask what lay beyond its barrier. The stench of the blighted rose’s petals crept out from under the base of the wooden door.
To their left, the hallway ran deeper into the mountain, heading in the direction of the forest and the Outlands. The party passed a small washroom before entering a large bath. Two rectangular basins were cut into the floor, and wisps of steam wafted off the heated water that had filled them to their brims. There was a fragrant, relaxing floral scent to the air.
Like the other rooms in their modest residence, this space was hollowed out from the solid stone of the mountain. Ryl marveled at the construction. The walls bore no marks from chisel, no scratch from tools. The polished stone glistened with a mirrored shine. A small fire burned in a hearth set into the far wall. A pump and metal bucket, its bottom blackened from the flames, stood against the wall in the opposite corner of the room.
While the temperature in the hall was mild, the blaze had heated the bath to the point of discomfort. Ryl felt the sweat pushing at the toxin as it worked feverishly to escape his pores. Ticco placed their clothes on the room’s single, small table before hurrying to stand by the exit to the sweltering room. Bras
ley pulled a small strip of cloth out from the inside of his white robe, dabbing at the sweat that already covered his forehead.
Ryl fought the urge to leap into the inviting water. Reluctantly, he allowed the mender to assist him while her removed his well-worn shirt. The mender removed a small knife from the apron he wore around his waist, carefully slicing through the rough fabric up the middle. He gasped at the sight of the tattoo on Ryl’s chest. With all that had occurred, it was a mark that Ryl had forgotten was there. The situation surrounding its application, however, was forever ingrained in his mind. Reliving the Battle of the Erlyn Woods through the body of the phrenic, Caprien, was something he still felt with all of his senses.
“This is unexpected,” Mender Brasley gasped. “A transference of power. I’ve only seen these in the great tomes in the library. Heard their tales passed down throughout the ages. Where did you come across this?”
Ticco braced himself against the doorway; steadying his shaking legs, whether from shock or the heat. The surprise was written across Andr’s face, and his head shook from side to side, his mouth forming a small discerning smile. Ryl thought for a moment before answering.
“In a time of great need, the Erlyn Woods revealed one of her secrets,” Ryl admitted plainly, still hesitant to divulge too much information.
“Are there still phrenic alive in the great woods today?” the mender interrupted with a start; his eyes grown wide.
“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that question,” Ryl said shaking his head. “The woods never showed me another, he said he was the last before vanishing.”
“This will be a story worth hearing,” Brasley commented, the excitement in his voice impossible to hide. “You’re full of surprises, my young friend. I assure you the Council will find this most interesting.”
