by C. J. Aaron
With disbelief, Ryl stared at the pile of large oblong white pills inside the pouch in his hands. At a quick count, he estimated that there were nearly fifty pills. That would give him at least five weeks’ worth of treatments, six if he could stretch the time between doses.
He was getting ahead of himself; he was still a prisoner of The Stocks. He had in his hands a partial answer to the problem of how to manage the poison that he’d been forced to ingest for cycles. If he could find means of escape, if he could secret the pills away with him, he’d bought himself time to find a safe place and a caring soul to help him weather the storm that would accompany his withdrawal from the poison.
Ryl carefully transferred all but a few of the pills to his small pack. The remaining few he scattered on the ground leading to the river, dropping the leather pouch with the opening facing downstream halfway into the shallow water. Holding the satchel by its bottom, Ryl swung it in a small arc, randomly spilling its contents across the road before tossing the satchel near the rider’s head.
Rations, a few articles of spare clothes, a small water skin and a neatly folded piece of parchment lay strewn across the ground. Satisfied that the scene would be believable enough whether the rider woke up or help arrived first, Ryl began quietly creeping back toward the treeline. The words of the rider to the sentries stopped his silent retreat.
“Missive for Millis.”
Ryl turned quickly, collecting the paper, carefully unfolding the letter. In the dim light he read the neatly penned message.
Sub-master Millis,
Test results have been finalized and confirmed by Mender Jeffers. All fall within appropriate saturation levels, except tribute H1351+. Tribute is oversaturated, early Harvest required. Sponsor has been notified and is en route. Shutter Tabenville and deliver all tributes as per protocol. Notify the tribute of the findings.
Regards,
Captain Le’Dral
Ryl fell back to a seated position, his heart raced, his breath came in short ragged gasps. In his heart, he knew the results all along, yet the news was still devastating. Two weeks from now, he’d be leaving The Stocks. His Harvest was here.
Da’agryn had been right all along.
The noise of fast approaching footsteps coming from the direction of Tabenville, snapped him from his self-loathing. Ryl quickly folded the letter, tossing it on the ground, rushing into the treeline. The Erlyn opened the way and he entered the woods without slowing. The leaves rustled behind him as he passed.
39
Once safely inside the forest, Ryl opened a pathway to the cache, rushing at breakneck speed through the dimly lit opening. It wouldn’t take the guards long to notify the sentries of what had occurred. If his absence was noted, it would bring undue suspicion which Ryl could ill afford.
Ryl reached the clearing quickly, sliding to a stop at the hidden cache. He had no idea how Millis would react to the news. His assumed that he would be confined to Tabenville under careful watch. This would most likely be his last opportunity to visit his hideaway inside the Erlyn.
He emptied the contents of the hidden storage, laying them on the ground. He could easily smuggle the cloak into Tabenville. After all, it was just another piece of clothing, unusual though it may be. The Leaves, on the other hand, presented a much more significant problem.
Ryl thrust his head into his hands out of frustration, fingers pulling at his hair as he balled his hands into fists. The dulled end of the splint dug into his forehead.
His eyes went wide as he looked in wonder at his left arm.
The splint.
Pulling at the ties that lashed the splint to his arm and ignoring the mild pain, Ryl removed the original thin wood supports of the splint. The Leaves were slightly longer and thicker than what the mender had used but he was confident that the difference wouldn’t be noted. His heart was racing from the adrenaline as he bound the splint back to his arm.
The Leaves felt cool and comfortable against his skin. He had grown accustomed to the mild irritation of the original supports, yet just as when he had handled them in the past, the Leaves felt as if they were merely an extension of his body.
With the Leaves, treatment and cloak safely packed away, Ryl carefully replaced the cover to the hidden compartment. He connected with the forest, again directing his attention to the road. The normally peaceful pathway was alight with activity heading in both directions. Ryl could feel a group dragging the fallen limb across the road. The sensation felt like thorns running across his skin.
There was a small group moving slowly north toward Tabenville. Two sets of heavy boots walked with an even cadence, a third dragged between them. Every now and then, Ryl felt the single, heavy step of the one in the middle. Occasionally, there was a lighter dragging sensation where Ryl felt the other foot should be. There was a single set of long rapid footfalls ahead of them.
Ryl knew they had found the injured rider. There was a pair supporting him as they made their way toward the village. The solitary runner would have the entirety of Tabenville alerted within minutes.
The motion heading south was that of two sets of heavy footfalls, walking rapidly toward the sentries. The guards would notify the sentries of the activity. If anyone had read the message, they would assuredly come to collect Ryl and the twins without delay.
Ryl broke his connection, again ignoring the discomfort. He rapidly opened a path back toward the orchard, this time further away from where he had entered. His lungs and legs were burning from the running. The adrenaline alone kept him afoot as he sprinted through the forest.
It took longer than he had hoped to reach the border of the Erlyn. Ryl doubted that he had the energy to connect with the forest again. He glanced in the direction of the main road to where the sentries stood guard.
His heart skipped a beat as he realized they were nowhere to be seen.
Ryl quickly scanned for the twins. They, too, were missing from his mindsight.
He listened for the sound of horses, the sound of conversation, but all was quiet. With no other option, he sprinted through the grass toward the orchard. After what was an agonizing few moments, he reached the shelter of the first row, slamming forcefully into the closest tree.
He was panting from the exertion. His nerves were on edge for fear that after all he’d attempted, his plans were now unravelling. The orchard was still silent.
Ryl carefully hasten down the outside of the aisle, ducking from tree to tree. The closer he came to the road the more nervous he became. There was a distant growing sound of hoofbeats on the ground.
He raced forward down the aisle. He had to make it to his bucket before he was discovered. The hoofbeats grew louder.
Ryl managed a sigh of relief when he reached the bucket he’d deposited behind the tree. He frantically reached into the tree above pulling at every piece of fruit he could get his hands on, ripe or not. Trying to maintain his calm, he stepped out from under the tree, heading further up the aisle away from the road.
“Tribute, stop,” came the call from the guard approaching rapidly from behind him.
Ryl turned quickly as the rider thundered to a stop next to him.
“Where have you been?” the guard demanded. “We’ve already been up this row looking for you.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Ryl said apologetically. “I heard you pass before. I was relieving myself behind the tree.” Ryl focused on the guard, pushing out a feeling of trust.
The guard blinked his eyes, momentarily confused.
“Nature calls, eh?” The guard laughed. “Time to call it quits for the day. Everyone’s headed back to Tabenville. Finish up with the other two then head back.”
“Yes, sir,” Ryl said with a nod of his head.
The guard waited as he walked past. Ryl twisted his body slightly to hide the meager haul in his bucket and larger than normal pack over his shoulder. The slow clop of the horse’s hooves followed him as he walked down the aisle.
The twins were o
n their way up the road, pushing the partially loaded cart as Ryl and the sentry exited the aisle. Ryl casually dumped the contents of his virtually empty bucket into the cart. Tash and Palon gave him confused looks as the mix of ripe and unripe fruit rolled onto the heap.
Tash looked from Ryl to the modest pile on the ground at the end of his row.
“Good haul today, Ryl,” Tash said with a sarcastic smile.
“You try this with a broken arm,” Ryl responded, subconsciously waving his splinted arm. Tash’s eyes lingered on the splint for a moment longer than Ryl expected. Meeting eyes with Ryl again, he shrugged his shoulders.
“Let's get this over with then,” Tash continued as he grabbed the shovel moving to the small pile of fruit.
“Palon, I might need your help with this one,” Tash laughed, clearly not ready to let go of the insult at Ryl's lack of production. The silent twin moved to the pile lifting a single piece off the top, tossing it over his shoulder into the cart. Tash chuckled to himself as he finished loading the pile in two more scoops.
The trio made their way slowly back to Tabenville. The heavier cart gave them trouble in a few locations as the wheels sunk into the soft earth. Ryl and Palon were forced to push, while Tash pulled from the opposite side to free the stuck cart. They exchanged worried glances as the solitary sentry that had collected Ryl rode silently in their wake.
Halfway through the Erlyn they met a rider traveling south from Tabenville at speed. The guards saluted loosely as they rapidly passed each other.
“What do you think this is all about?” Tash asked in a whisper.
“I have no idea,” Ryl replied, trying to show genuine surprise in his voice.
They exited the Erlyn earlier in the day than they were accustomed to, yet in all directions the fields were empty of tributes. The sentry that had acted as their shadow since the orchard spurred his horse around them, moving quickly to the center of town. There, he paused for a moment as he appeared to be in conversation with someone on the ground. Finishing quickly, he turned his mount, racing back toward the Erlyn. He passed Ryl and the twins without a word, disappearing in the forest path.
As they arrived at the waystation to drop off their harvest and return their daily supplies, the door opened to allow a pair of guards out. A guard from Tabenville supported the unfortunate rider from the forest. The newcomer leaned heavily on a crutch supporting his opposite side as they moved slowly toward the barracks. Just above his eyes, his head was wrapped in a thick white bandage, a small splotch of red already visible from the hastily bandaged wound on his forehead. His entire right leg was splinted and bandaged. He let out a pained moan as they brushed past.
Ryl felt a sincere pang of remorse that he had injured the young guard. The young man had been dutifully following orders and was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The regret faded quickly as the reality of the situation inserted itself into his thoughts. The guard had suffered a small wound to the head and would be nursing a broken leg for a few moons. His wounded ego would be the longest sustained injury, lingering for as long as it would take for him or his companions to forget the accident occurred. A minor laceration, broken leg and damaged pride were trivial in comparison to the lives and daily toils of the tributes. Lives lived in slavery.
Ryl and the twins followed the slowly moving pair until they entered into the barracks. Ahead of them the square was more crowded than normal. The nervous faces of the tributes were obvious and the small groups of guards patrolling the area were on edge. Sub-master Millis was standing at the gate to his quarters, leaning against the fencepost. There was a rolled up sheet of parchment in his hand.
Ryl was unsurprised when the sub-master called him over. Bidding an uncertain farewell to the twins, he shuffled over to the waiting officer.
“Evening, Ryl,” Millis said in his official tone. “I’d like to have a word with you.”
The sub-master pointed the way into the officer’s quarters. With a nod from the sub-master, Ryl was again let into the officer’s barracks, and ushered into the same office, this time accompanied by the sub-master himself.
Ryl took up a seat in the same chair, resting his overburdened bag protectively on his lap. It seemed to take forever for the sub-master to circle around the desk, where he deposited himself roughly into his chair with a groan. He placed the parchment face down in front of him. Without saying a word, Millis reached into his desk, retrieving a pair of glasses and a bottle. He poured a much larger glass for both Ryl and himself.
“To what do I owe the honor tonight, sir?” Ryl asked, breaking the silence, trying to act surprised at the news he already knew was coming.
Millis inhaled deeply, holding it in for a moment before exhaling with a sigh.
“Our plans have changed since we last spoke, Ryl,” sub-master Millis stated dryly. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you were all called in early from your assignments today. I need you to be my voice and relay this part of this conversation if you please.”
“Of course, sir,” Ryl answered.
“The rider carrying the weekly treatments had an accident in the Erlyn,” Millis continued. “A branch must have been weakened by the recent storms. It broke off knocking him off his horse. Unlucky chap is lucky to be alive. Unfortunately, in the process the entire week’s supply of treatments were lost in the river.”
“What about the sickness?” Ryl gasped with mock surprise.
“The general consensus is that expending excess energy will speed the consumption of the treatment within the body,” the sub-master explained. “Therefore, all assignments will be temporarily halted until more treatments can be procured from Cadsae. A rider has already been dispatched, but we won’t see him again until tomorrow night at the earliest, and that is if there are no delays.”
“I understand, sir,” Ryl acknowledged.
“Any symptoms of the sickness need to be reported to the guards immediately,” Millis expressed officially. “We always carry a small supply of treatment on hand in case of emergencies, yet these are very limited. These treatments will be prioritized to anyone who shows signs of the sickness prior to the rider returning.”
Sub-master Millis leaned forward taking a large sip of the amber liquor, savoring the liquid in his mouth before swallowing with an audible gulp. Ryl took a small sip as well.
“The rider was also carrying a message for me,” Millis started again, all trace of officiousness gone from his voice. “The tests you were all subjected to recently were the direct result of some young noble fop, no one knows which one to be specific. All we know is that someone got all the sponsors worked into a tizzy. The whole lot started crying to the king about their concerns that their precious tributes were at risk of being damaged. The king outright denied the demands that any of their tributes be released early.”
Millis paused to take another sip. Ryl listened eagerly to the new information.
“The sponsors were persistent,” Millis continued. “Struck a deal with the king that if any one of the tribute’s alexen tested at a higher concentration than anticipated, that they’d have the right to Harvest early. Pretentious bastards even paid for the testing themselves.”
The sub-master paused, gently placing his drink down on the table, flipping over the parchment. Ryl watched as his eyes quickly scanned the document.
“Turns out that out of all the tributes, only one tested above saturation,” Millis lamented. “I’m sorry, Ryl. That one is you.”
Ryl let his head and shoulders sink, his eyes stared down at the floor. He had been worried about how well he could feign surprised at the news, yet hearing it from the sub-master and hearing the emotion in his voice was more shocking than expected..
Millis rose from his chair, collecting his drink as he stood and began pacing around the room.
“You know, I was there the night they brought you into The Stocks,” the sub-master admitted. Ryl was again startled by the admission, lifting his head to follow
the man as he paced back and forth across his office. “They told us you were coming. Told us that in our lifetime, in our father's lifetime, no one had ever seen alexen like yours. Active alexen. It was rumored that you were special. All I remember is another scared child, discarded by the world.”
Both he and Ryl took a large sip at the momentary pause in the story.
“In a matter of the last few moons, you've shaken the very foundation of The Stocks,” Millis said as he moved back to his chair. “I know not what the rest of this cruel life has in store for you, but I have a profound feeling that this will not be the end of your tale.”
Millis tipped his head back finishing the rest of his glass with a single gulp.
“Open your bag, Ryl,” Millis commanded.
Ryl's heart skipped a beat. He hastily swallowed another sip.
“Excuse me, sir,” Ryl replied weakly.
Millis reached down into his desk and retrieved another bottle of the precious liquor. He placed it carefully on the table, sliding it toward Ryl.
“For you to share with those whose bonds can be labeled as friendship,” the sub-master said profoundly.
“Thank you, sir,” Ryl said with genuine appreciation at the unexpected gift. He hastily put the bottle in his pack, closing it quickly.
“Through inaction or deed, I have wronged you in more ways that I can count,” Millis said, his voice heavy with emotion. “I ask not for your forgiveness, through my own complacency or duty I've set my course.”
The sub-master poured himself another small glass, offering more to Ryl although his glass wasn't yet empty.
“If there comes a day when the opportunity arises, judge not the world for the actions here,” Millis continued. “I have to believe there is still good left in the world. To that, let us drink.”
They finished their glasses in silence, both lost in thought. The quiet clink of Ryl’s empty glass hitting the table broke the momentary repose in the room.
