by C. J. Aaron
Then again, not since the escape of the founders of Vim, over one thousand cycles in the past, had there been any sort of armed uprising.
No phrenic had walked within these prison walls for nearly as long.
Ryl closed his eyes, relaxing for a moment, letting the cool breeze from the sea wash over him. Standing atop the hill, there was a wild stirring in his blood the likes of which he’d never experienced. His mind sifted through the nearly infinite shreds of information; sorted the countless memories in an instant. The sensation of the full extent of the vaults of information opening was still staggeringly disconcerting. It was like trying to drink but a sip of water from a tidal wave.
He sank to a knee, his head bowed, his right hand falling to the ground.
Inadvertently, his fingers found purchase, sinking their tips into the softened earth of the field. He felt a profound connection with the soil. Blood had been spilled here.
Phrenic blood.
Thayers Rest was one of the few named locations inside The Stocks that had stood the test of time. It was rumored to be named after a soldier who fought in Taben’s army. None knew the truth behind the claim. The answer flashed into his mind.
Thayer was a phrenic. A scout tasked with investigating the coming of the darkness; the approach of the Horde. He was the first to fall. His blood had drenched the soil on which Ryl now kneeled. He closed his fist, collecting a handful of the dark, rich soil. The heavy scent of earth assailed his nostrils. How many times had he dug in the soil atop this mound of earth? The feeling now was unnerving. The alexen in his blood mourned the loss. He could feel it in every fiber of his being.
Without warning his mindsight painted the picture of the surrounding landscape. The majority of the tributes were relatively still, though some moved about idly. A single glowing signature approached from his rear. Brighter than the others, he recognized it immediately.
“Are you alright, Ryl?” Kaep’s voice was soft and melodic, though it was flavored with a hint of concern.
Ryl rose to his feet, letting the dirt slip slowly through the gaps between his fingers. He felt every grain as it passed, heard every miniscule impact of the granules on the ground.
“Do you feel it? Do you feel the connection with this land?” he asked quietly without turning his head, his gaze still locked on the mountains to the north. “Phrenic blood has soaked the ground here.”
The silence stretched on as she stopped at his side. The feeling of welcome that every phrenic, every tribute carried washed over him. He could feel the warmth from the proximity of her uncloaked, tattooed right arm on his skin.
“Aye, it feels strange,” she responded in a whisper. “It’s almost as if I know this place. The sense of familiarity is potent. Part of me still can’t believe that we're actually here.”
Ryl turned his head. He was surprised to see the hood of her cloak down. Errant strands of her brown hair blew across her face from the wind that pushed at her back.
Her gaze drank in the surrounding landscape starting from the west. The arc of her vision carried on until it stopped as their eyes locked. Behind her, the last glimmer of the flaming red sky dissolved behind the top of the western palisade.
“Since I was a child, I’ve been raised with the stories of this place as all in Vim do,” she said. “The dichotomy is so much more visceral that I could have ever imagined. There is so much hatred, yet there is a beauty that is incomparable.”
“Aye, it took me cycles to see through the veil of hate. Nearly every sight harbors memories of pain. Of loss,” Ryl responded.
Her right arm moved slightly; her fingers brushed the skin of his hand. The response was as immediate as it was electric. The surge of energy tore through his body. Every muscle seemed to contract and release simultaneously as the sensation surged past. He heard the barely audible sigh as it escaped her lips. Her body tensed slightly.
“You are an anomaly to me, Ryl,” she whispered. “The connection. The sensation. I don't understand it. You have a magnetism that's undeniable; I can feel it in every fiber of my being.”
She stared at him, the light of the burning signal fires dancing in her eyes.
“I can feel it too,” Ryl answered. “I know not the meaning either, it's as foreign to me as it is to you. I can find no answers in my blood. I've never experienced the like.”
Ryl paused to collect his thoughts, letting his gaze sweep the landscape around them. His eyes stopped on the blackened mass of the mountains now barely visible in the absence of light. He rubbed his right hand subconsciously over his tattooed left arm.
“The alexen still holds its secrets, that I'm sure,” he professed. “The connection, the pull we both feel, there are answers that are both obvious and hidden. I regret that now is not the time to explore them further.”
His gaze turned back toward Kaep. She now stared to the north, her eyes tracing the rapidly vanishing silhouette of the Haven Mountains in the distance. Her hair blew gently in the breeze, floating in the air before gently falling back to her shoulder. She cut a striking profile backlit by the flickering gouts of flame from the signal fires along the wall.
Ryl reached his left hand out carefully. He prepared his body for the onslaught of sensation that he knew was coming. The jolt of energy tore through his body as he carefully took her hand in his. He saw her go rigid as the feeling ignited within her as well.
“There will be time soon, Kaep,” he whispered. “All will be revealed soon.”
It was with considerable effort that Ryl broke his handhold with her. The connection was more potent than ever before. More energizing. More thrilling.
More impassioned.
The realization startled him. It terrified him. He shook off the feeling as he led the way back to the group. Neither spoke a word, so consumed were they with the thoughts that raced through their heads.
Ryl and Kaep walked together as they moved to rejoin the tributes and guards that had spread out around Thayers Rest. She silently raised her hood over her head before they reached the camp. The last hint of light from the sun had disappeared. It wouldn’t be long before they continued their journey north under the cover of the coming blackness.
He led the way toward the supply wagons they’d taken from Cadsae. The captain had established his post at the head of the caravan, sharing the makeshift office with Mender Jeffers. Ryl could see the captain leaning against a tree a few meters to the east of the wagon. He’d noted the prostrate form of Jeffers, sprawled out on the ground near where Sarial rested alongside the ailing tributes. The racing mind of the mender had thankfully calmed enough to grant him a short rest.
He’d need it. They assuredly had long days ahead.
Along the train of wagons and throughout the now brimming camp, the fires had been allowed to burn out. The only remaining blaze was the largest of the bunch, though fairly hidden from view of the Palisades amongst the few trees and single building of the diminutive work camp. A small lantern hung from the edge of the captain’s wagon; the light, though mostly hidden behind shutters, sent a small glowing sliver to where Le’Dral stood.
Ryl quietly hailed the captain as he approached. Le’Dral pushed himself back off the tree, yet his hand remained. The small flash of a smile was apparent even in the dark.
“How soon do you want to move?” Ryl asked as he and Kaep stopped before the captain.
Le’Dral scratched at the stubble that had overtaken the skin of his chin with his opposite hand.
“Within the hour,” he said as he looked to the sky above them. A thin layer of wispy clouds had moved in throughout the evening, covering much of the night sky, blotting out the stars that had only recently revealed their splendor. The diffused light cast the area into a dim, hazy glow.
“The clouds should help conceal our movement, yet our progress will be slow,” he acknowledged.
Le’Dral stopped. The expression on his face became gravely serious.
“Ryl, I agree that Tabenville is
the most defensible point in the entirety of The Stocks,” he commented. “What do you plan to do there? How long do you plan to hold out? We’ll be cut off from all supplies.”
Ryl had anticipated the questions from the captain. He had the answers, yet now was admittedly not the right time to divulge them.
“There are surprises yet to be revealed, my friend,” Ryl offered hopefully. “We need not hold it indefinitely. We need but a few weeks.”
Captain Le’Dral eyed him with a look of confusion at the statement. The officer had seemingly sacrificed everything, throwing his lot in with Ryl and the tributes, yet he was hesitant to divulge the full truth about the Erlyn or the path that lay ahead.
“I ask you to keep this between us for the time being,” Ryl breathed quietly. The captain nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“There is far more at stake here than merely the freedom of the tributes,” Ryl continued. “The policies of old that have destroyed so many lives for the benefit of a few must be abolished. While that remains a prime focus, know that there are far more disastrous forces at play. Ones for which loyalties to King or tributes will matter not.”
“What forces, Ryl?” Captain Le’Dral quizzed.
“Think, captain,” Ryl challenged. “Before this morning, the abilities you saw put on display were relegated to the pages of myth. When was the last time skills such as you witnessed were called upon? And for what purpose were they used?”
Le’Dral’s eyes wandered across the camp that spread out before him. Ryl smiled as they widened as the realization struck him.
“It was in the time of Taben,” he whispered.
“Aye. That is correct,” Ryl answered. “The black tide that nearly drowned Damaris has risen yet again.”
The captain opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. His eyes traveled down to the ground at his feet.
The snapping sound of a twig under foot broke the still that had fallen over them.
Le’Dral’s head shot up. Ryl reached for the Leaves as he prepared to call on the speed that flowed through his veins. The bow that forever accompanied Kaep was in her hands, an arrow being brought to the string.
“You’ve left your eastern flank woefully unprepared, my old friend,” came the voice from the darkness.
“I expected better of you.”
Chapter 29
A shadow separated from the scattering of trees behind the captain. A pair of others followed in its wake.
Ryl recognized the voice. He relaxed his grip on the Leaves, turning his head toward Kaep, holding his hand out palm up for pause. She dropped the point of her nocked arrow slightly down toward the ground, though the string remained taut.
Le’Dral straightened, his posture reverting to the regimented stance that had been ingrained as a matter of position for so many cycles. He stared eyes wide into the darkness as the shadow approached. The man wore a dark grey cape; the charcoal hue enabling it to blend in with the grove of trees around him. Small patches of leaves were affixed to the fabric, breaking up the obvious outline of a human form from that of the forest. The well-worn uniform of a guard peered out from underneath.
“Millis!?” Le’Dral whispered as the man reached the edge of the dim light of the captain’s lantern. The whites of his teeth glistened bright through the darkness; his smile stretched wide across his face.
“Aye, sir,” came the reply from the shadow.
In a show that surprised even Ryl, the captain leapt forward, throwing his arms around Millis, clapping him repeatedly on the back.
Le'Dral beamed as he pushed back from the momentary embrace.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again, my friend,” the captain admitted. The joyous look on his face reverted to its stern official pose as he eyed the newcomers. His eyes were deadly serious. “What happened? Why could you not have given me a warning?”
“I'm sorry, sir,” Millis said offering a slight formal bow. “There was no time.”
One of the shadowed figures from behind stepped forward, the features of his face illuminating as he reached the light of the lantern.
“Pardon, the interruption, sir. That was my fault, sir,” he announced with a salute. “I take full responsibility. I came to the Lieutenant as soon as I heard. His plans to dine with a small party of guards had been overheard by the councilor’s men. There was an execution planned. All were to die. They planned to barricade the doors. Guard or not, all would have been burned alive.”
“We were thankful for the unfamiliar faces manning the gate that night,” Millis continued. “The policies had become lax since the councilor took over, it's no surprise our entrance wasn't noted.”
Le'Dral let out a deep breath, the air hissing as it escaped his lips. The captain seemed to stand taller, as if the weight of a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
“You've done well, corporal,” Le'Dral said. “Your apology is unnecessary.”
The corporal flashed a quick smile before stepping back a pace behind Millis.
“How many others are with you?” Le'Dral demanded. “Where have you sheltered this last moon?”
Millis grinned back at friend and commander.
“Captain, The Stocks are not so well patrolled that five cannot remain undetected,” Millis commented. “Maklan's incompetence has bred a complacency the likes of which I've never before seen. We've moved at night and kept to the groves during the days.”
His eyes traveled from the captain to Ryl and Kaep standing a pace beyond. Millis’ eyes widened; a flash of shock ran across his face as he settled on Ryl. A small crooked grin tugged up on the corner of his lips.
“There's a face I recognize, though the boy has certainly grown,” Millis commented, his eyes catalogued the elaborate tattoos on Ryl's arms.
“I might have guessed that The Stocks hadn't seen the last of you,” Millis continued. “It’s truly good to see you again.”
Millis stepped forward, his hand extending to meet Ryl's. His iron grip squeezed Ryl’s hand for a moment before pulling him into a brief, tight embrace.
“It’s great to see you again, Lieutenant,” Ryl admitted. His heart was overjoyed by the sudden appearance of the sub-master. “It is a story that will have to wait for another time. Captain, we should make ready to move with the dark.”
Le'Dral nodded in agreement, though Ryl could see the momentary flash of annoyance at the order.
“Ryl, if you can rouse the tributes, I'll recall the guard,” Le'Dral said. “I'm sure it need not be said, this must be done without the assistance of lanterns or torch.”
Ryl nodded his head in agreement. He turned his gaze back to Millis once more. He clapped the guard on the shoulder, smiling as he turned back toward the camp. Kaep followed in his wake, like a shadow through the dark of the night.
It was moments before the camp was alive with a flurry of activity. The uncertain, weary tributes crowded together in a tightly packed group. Wide yawns marked the faces of many. They were tired. They would be pushed much farther before this journey was at an end. They'd be tested beyond what they had ever imagined possible.
Ryl surveyed the group as he made his way past, toward the head of the column to where Le'Dral waited beside the wagons. The expressions on their faces were painfully clear to read. Though they were confused, scared and uncertain what tomorrow would bring, the newfound hope was a balm to the overpowering burden that had weighed them down for cycles. The light of hope that had been reduced to nothing more than a spark now burned brightly in their eyes.
The twins along with Odus—and to his surprise, Cray—had taken up vocal leadership of the tributes. They looked at Ryl with an uncomfortable mixture of awe, wonder and fear. He had only been gone for a cycle, yet he experienced a sharp twinge of remorse as if he was no longer one of them. Their gazes bordered on reverence.
There was no question that those whom he'd called his closest friends would willingly follow him to the end of the earth.
That was almost precisely what he intended to ask.
He was certain that the others would agree to the plan as well. For the better part of their lives, even throughout childhood, they'd all been persecuted, enslaved, and piled with indignities that would have broken the will of any lesser man or woman. They'd witnessed firsthand the horrors of humanity.
Ryl had no intention of being their master. His steadfast belief in his professed statement held true.
They were free.
Yet his conscience ate away at him. He'd not provided the entire story. He’d intentionally withheld information that could be a deciding factor in the decisions that they must one day make.
A war was coming.
They would likely be called upon to stand on the front lines, facing down the bloodlust of demons and mankind alike. Some would undoubtedly pay with their lives.
For Ryl, there was no decision. There was no choice. His freedom was his own. Though he sometimes felt like a slave to a predestined path that was not of his own choosing, this ultimate decision was his and his alone. He would not force the tributes into a path they weren't willing to commit to. He'd see them through the coming sickness. They'd know the full truth regarding the tangent that he now walked. They alone would decide their fate.
Whether it was with he and the phrenics, or striking out a life on their own, he was committed to supporting them no matter the decision. Or the cost.
The actions of the morning had set in motion events that would forever define the Kingdom. Though The Stocks might have fallen, tributes would still be hunted mercilessly throughout Damaris. Those who chose to remain would be hunted with them. What life would be in store for those found with alexen in their blood now? He shuddered at the thought.
