by C. J. Aaron
“They are like the Horde,” Ryl theorized. “They swarm when they feel the presence of the alexen, yet they require the visual cues and the rest of their senses to guide them.”
His head turned to the phrenics standing at his side. He met their eyes. All nodded in silent agreement with his assessment.
“We’ll draw them to the bridge then fight as one,” Ryl said. “The narrow path will make even their number; they’ll only be able to strike from one side.”
Their horses were tied off just inside the tree line, a last resort should their plan fall apart. A sudden fear ran through him. Were they too hasty in their planning? Should they have bypassed Serrate and not deviated from their schedule?
He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. The clean morning air filled his lungs. With a steady, slow breath, he released the doubt that had threatened to consume him.
“Let's go,” he said. “The tributes await.”
Ryl stepped forward, each footfall descending deeper and deeper into the morning fog. The mists swirled in their wake, forming small eddies behind their legs as they passed. He scanned ahead with the mindsight, but he was still too far to see anything of use.
The sounds of the morning seemed too quiet as they approached the bridge. The rushing of the water below, the singing of the birds in the trees all sounded muted. His foot struck the stone bridge, the sound echoed through the fog.
Step after step, they approached the village. Ahead in the distance the crumbling stone spires jutted out into the sky.
Ryl felt the magnetic attraction as if he was being drawn toward the ruins. He noted the foreign tingling sensation in his left arm. He’d never replaced his shirt where he’d torn it to cover the wound. The cut had all but disappeared; the tattoos seemingly reclaiming their lost canvas. He couldn’t understand the feeling, had no grasp of its meaning, yet now was not the time for contemplation.
Their presence was noted as they began crossing the bridge. The appearance of their four hooded figures materializing from the morning mist must have been disconcerting to the villagers. They walked slowly, purposefully toward the small village. Ryl watched a woman with a basket in one hand grab the arm of her child with her other, dragging the dawdling youth into the nearest house. The door slammed shut behind them. The fishermen on the docks froze in place watching their approach; their darkened, featureless silhouettes stood out through the thick mist.
They had just crossed the center of the bridge when the rapid thunder of hoofbeats rose from behind them. They paused in place, hands hovering over their weapons. Ryl scanned the area with his mindsight—the area was free of the dark stains of the unknown warriors.
A single rider appeared from around the corner, his horse barreling down the hill toward the bridge. As he drew closer, Ryl could see the terror written across his pale face. They stepped to the side as his horse thundered past. The rider screamed in alarm.
“They come,” his panicked voice broke through the quiet morning. “Lei Guard, they come.”
His voice trailed off as he continued through the village. Ryl frantically scanned the area, focusing with all his might, willing his mindsight to greater lengths. His heart skipped a beat at the scene the vision painted.
Approaching rapidly through the forest, a clustered dark mass surged towards their position.
From the other side of the village, a second group hastened toward them.
Two parties of Lei Guard. Fourteen black cloaked warriors converged on them.
They were outnumbered more than three to one.
“From both sides. They come,” Ryl breathed. “We are penned in.”
The phrenics swung their heads from side to side. In both directions the road was still clear. Through the morning mist, he could feel the darkness choking out the light as it approached. Their plan had unraveled.
They were trapped. There would be no escaping without a fight.
“Flee now,” Ryl demanded.
The others appraised him with worried eyes.
“We will be crushed between them, they are too many,” Ryl continued.
“We’re not leaving you, Ryl. We will fight as one,” Kaep demanded.
“I see no other way,” he hissed.
“They’ll kill you,” Kaep pleaded.
“No. They won’t,” Ryl asserted.
The subconscious determination flowed from his body. An antagonizing feeling of hope slammed over the phrenics forcing them back a step.
“Ryl, what are you doing?” Vox gasped.
“If they are drawn to the sense of a phrenic, I’ll give them a beacon they cannot resist,” Ryl vowed. His squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the feeling outward, pushing it past the limits of his vision.
He opened his eyes again; his friends now viewing him with wonder. His body was wrapped in a dim, pale golden light. The faint glow appeared to pulse from his very core.
“The mission still stands,” he whispered. “The tributes must be freed; The Stocks must be freed. They will come to me. Hide among the buildings along the roadside, fall on them from behind once they cross onto the bridge. Make your arrows count, Kaep.”
The phrenic archer nodded her understanding.
“Vox, when the riders enter the bridge, rain down fire, destroy the arch,” Ryl ordered. “Ramm, think your hammer can handle the other side?”
“Aye, Ryl, that it can,” Ramm said with a crooked smile.
Ryl met eyes with the phrenic surrounding him.
“Go now,” Ryl whispered, winching in discomfort as he forced the feeling outward. “Remember, above all else, The Stocks must be freed.”
“We’ll see you when this is through,” Kaep whispered as she stepped backward.
With a last glance, the phrenics turned and sped from the bridge, disappearing into the village.
Ryl was alone.
The streets were empty; the last of the shutters on the surrounding houses slammed shut with an audible thud. He could feel the terrified eyes of the villagers peering out from where they hid.
Their morning had started like any other, like hundreds of days before this. But today they were about to witness a battle the likes of which the kingdom had never seen. This morning, the mask, the blissful ignorance to the powers that had been relegated to myth would be removed from their eyes.
Phrenics would again walk in the Kingdom of Damaris.
For how long?
That was uncertain.
Chapter 52
Silence descended upon the village. The water rushing underneath the bridge quieted as the world held its breath in anticipation.
An oppressive sensation of foreboding drew in.
The rumbles of hooves rolled like thunder from the road to the forest. Ryl watched with his mindsight as the dark masses approached at a steady gait. Within moments the riders from the east appeared at the top of the hill bordering the woods. The seven riders sat tall atop horses nearly as black as their cloaks. The mounts stomped on the ground, snorting as their masters halted their advance. Ryl felt the unfiltered surge of raw hatred flowing from the mounted Lei Guard. Though he could see nothing of their faces under the shadow of the darkened hoods, he could feel the venom in their glare.
The seven dismounted, stepping in front of their mounts. In one coordinated motion, they each removed the large circular shields from their backs. The uneven blood-red spikes that lined the perimeter of the shields dug into the ground as they rested them down. The Lei Guard stood motionless, an immovable wall of blackened hatred blocking any retreat through the forest. The angst and malice that poured from their bodies darkened the air around them before slowly spreading forward. It crept over the ground like the shadow from a cloud blotting out the sun as it passed overhead.
Ryl risked a glance upward as the line held at the forest. Though the darkness spread across the land, above him, the morning sky remained an unblemished clear blue.
He stood motionless, his body facing upriver, with the shadow from his hood
covering the upper half of his face. His hands were at his sides, and his cloak had blown back over his left arm shielding it from view. Its tail billowed gently in the breeze. His body was still wrapped in a glowing yellow haze. The foreign, tingling sensation in his left arm increased in its intensity with every passing moment.
Ryl swung his head from the Lei Guard on his left to the right. The creeping darkness he’d seen with his mindsight now materialized into the form of a second set of seven black cloaked Lei Guard approaching from the east. Each carried a similar round black spiked shield, with the disconcerting face painted on its front. A shadow followed their every step, darkening the narrow street through Serrate as they approached.
In unison, the seven blocking the forest path hefted their shields, and began marching slowly toward the eastern edge of the bridge. Ryl felt the impact of every synchronized footstep as they made their way down the hill. Both parties marched with the same measured cadence. He felt the beat of their steps as it drummed through his body. Both groups stopped as they reached the stone edge of the bridge. The black cloud that preceded their arrival continued creeping closer though their bodies remained in place.
Ryl was unprepared for their first assault. The wave of crushing hatred slammed into him; the unexpected intensity of the emotion nearly toppled him from his feet. The shadows that had preceded the Lei Guard surged over him, blocking out the sun, covering him in a chilling cloud. He corrected his balance within moments, closing his eyes, balling his hands into fists.
“Two can play at this game,” he muttered to himself as he pushed back against the overpowering animosity. The anger that swelled inside of him slammed itself against the darkness, fighting their malice with his own wrath. The shadow flexed slightly before crushing back on him as his forced emotion failed.
Ryl sank to his knees as the weight of the hatred pinned him to the bridge. His head sank down, his eyes opened, focusing on the stone at his feet. The slow, steady sound of footfalls signaled the approach of his death.
He felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. He desperately fought back against the nearly overpowering desire to give in. The feeling of ultimate failure crashed over him next. He choked back the tears that threatened to stream from his eyes.
He was a failure. A child born with cursed blood now grown to a man with a hopeless future. Ryl would never achieve that which he’d set out to accomplish. The tributes would forever remain in chains.
The Stocks would never be free.
The effort to lift his hands was monumental. Ryl held them in front of his face—they were covered in blood. The blood was not his own, but the blood of those who’d counted on him. The tributes. His friends.
The Vigil.
Vox.
Ramm.
Kaep.
Andr.
Ryl slammed his eyes shut forcing the image from his mind. Every fiber in his body screamed in protest against the emotions that held him down.
He countered the hatred with peace and forgiveness. His head lifted; his eyes raised up from the stone walkway of the bridge.
He countered the failure with the one emotion that had kept him going through all the cycles. Through all the torture, all the heartbreak, all the struggle, all the pain, it had been a steadfast companion urging him onward.
Hope.
The sense of failure dissolved as hope streamed from his body in a torrent of emotion. He rose up from his knees, rolling his shoulders back as he stood.
The glow that had surrounded him swelled outward, banishing the darkness that had covered him. His body was the tipping point; halting then turning back the shadow that had sought to smother him. The approaching warriors in black stopped, leaving a space of ten meters between him and the nearest warrior. The narrow confines of the bridge had forced their groups into two rows, four in the front, three in the back.
From both sides the Lei Guard let out a scream foreign to the lips of man. He’d heard the sound before, a wail that was forever ingrained into his mind.
The savage hatred.
The shrieks of the Outland Horde.
The monotone note of their blades screaming from their sheaths rang out, its high-pitched note slicing through their cries.
Ryl threw his head back as he screamed back in defiance.
“Come,” Ryl yelled into the sky.
The sound that poured from his lips was imbued with the strength and rage of the alexen that flowed through his veins. His hands fell to his sides. The wind swirled from his right arm, spreading out around his body. Caught by the swirling winds, the mist whipped around his body with the uninhibited force of a cyclone. Within a few meters of where he stood, the air was clear and still. The fog that had blanketed the surrounding area was sucked toward the vortex spreading outward from his body in a cylinder of white.
The Lei Guard on either side took a step forward, oblivious to the wind. Their vicious blades were eager for his blood.
A devilish smile tugged up at Ryl’s lips as his eyes caught a glimpse of the sight in the sky above.
The arching tail of smoke had started so high in the sky that it had gone unnoticed in the commotion. Ryl struggled as he pushed outward with the hope that held back the darkness. He needed their attention for only a few more moments.
The ball of flame grew rapidly as it plummeted downward. His eyes followed the fireball, his mindsight followed the approach of the Lei Guard. The cries of hatred from the Lei Guard approaching from Serrate morphed into those of warning and of fear as the burning comet raced toward their comrades on the opposite side of the bridge.
Warned by the cries of their companions, the Lei Guard between him and the forest split, some leaping forward toward Ryl, while others dove backward toward the bank. The stone bridge shook violently as the fireball detonated on impact. At the same time, Ryl spun to his left, falling to one knee, bracing himself against the force of the explosion. He turned his head, looking away from the blast, protecting his face with his arm. He focused on the woodskin, forming a crust along the entirety of his right side.
As he spun, he sent the wind and mist that had rotated around him outward in a pointed wave that raced like a scythe parallel to the ground. The Lei Guard between him and the forest had scattered; the four closest to him dove to avoid the blast. His wind lifted their off-balance bodies like they were fallen leaves dancing on the breeze. They flailed like ragdolls as they were hurled backward, pinned between his wind and the flames, shrapnel and shockwave from the blast. Their bodies were shredded to pieces as they were incinerated by the blast.
The heat from the explosion was intense, and Ryl felt it singe his skin. The stinging impact of shrapnel along his right side mixed with the wet slap of bloody chunks of burnt flesh. Closer to Serrate, the Lei Guard staggered as Ryl’s wind and the shockwave from the explosion combined with an unpredictable force.
Ryl let the speed flow through his body, and the world around him slowed to a crawl. Behind him, the arch of the bridge was in ruins, a hole nearly twenty meters wide severed it from the pillar where he stood. A large chunk of rock, beam and mortar fell carelessly toward the churning rapids of the river. On the bank, two of the remaining Lei Guard from that seven were staggering to their feet. One spewed a gout of blackened blood from its mouth, the other stumbled drunkenly. The third remained motionless, a large wedge of pointed rock protruding from its chest.
Ryl’s ears resounded with a single, high pitched note that thundered through his head. The note became a harmony as the whistle of arrows sang overhead. Ryl knew the song well. Kaep’s arrows tore through the hobbled Lei Guard, dropping them where they stumbled.
The Lei Guard closer to the village wailed with fury as their companions were cut down before them. The shock from the blast and the wind from Ryl's hand left them unbalanced, but still on their feet.
A volley of arrows streamed from the buildings lining the edge of the village. Kaep's bow sung its rapid song, while Ryl noted the sluggish shapes of the Vi
gil emerge from their hiding among the buildings along the river's edge as they fired on the staggered Lei Guard.
The three in the rear of their formation, closest to the city, took the brunt of the assault. Kaep felled two, while the third, wounded by a bolt to the leg blocked the rest with ease.
The door to the inn that sat on the corner of the main road burst open. The thick frame of Ramm sprinted forward—his speed shocked Ryl as he raced toward the bridge, his warhammer raised for a strike. Kaep tossed her bow, rushing forward in support as she pulled out her short, curved blades.
From the roof of the Inn, Vox sent another small fireball into the remaining Lei Guard. He staggered backward, collapsing to a knee, dropping out of sight after the effort. The wounded Lei Guard facing the village dodged the flaming projectile with ease. Its clouded trail blocked his vision momentarily as it passed. Ramm exploded through the smoke; the warhammer struck down on the black cloaked guard with the force of an avalanche.
The Lei Guard raised his heavy shield at the last instant, taking the full force of the blow. The ring of metal on metal was deafening. The shield split in half; the momentum tossing the Lei Guard into the back of his companion. Ramm's warhammer followed with a focused strike on the bridge itself. The massive phrenic grunted as he swung the devastating weapon—its impact shook the ailing structure opening a hole between the staggered guard and him.
Though Vox's fireball had missed its initial target, it slammed into the back of the Lei Guard furthest to Ryl's left. The projectile detonated, tearing a hole in the guard's back, showering bone and blood over the bridge. Reeling helplessly and roaring with agony, his body pitched over the low railing, plummeting into the water below.
From the village, Nielix, Soldi and Dav sprinted toward the bridge, swords in hand. Their exertion was apparent though they moved as if they were running against a current of water.
Ryl rushed forward, wrenching the Leaves from their holsters, charging at the Lei Guard closest to the right side of the failing bridge. The nearest guard was still slightly off balance, trying to regain his footing after his companion had struck him from behind. The two still stood back to back.
