A Tribute at the Gates

by C. J. Aaron

  “Sir, I don’t know what’s happening, he just collapsed. Unconscious, I think,” Ryl rushed through the report. Two more tributes on the other side of the room fell to the floor. Several more were stumbling on their feet.

  “I know,” Millis said hurriedly. “The deer must have been drugged. I only allowed a few of the guards to eat before our visitors left to keep up the ruse. The guards that ate first are all fast asleep. I don’t have time to explain. We have to get you out of here now. One of the sentries reported movement to the east.”

  “But couldn’t it just be the tributes they were looking for, or animals, or other guards,” Luan interrupted, her voice quaking with fear.

  “If it was tributes or animals then there’ll be nothing to worry about,” Millis said quickly. “Guards in The Stocks don’t skulk around in the shadows at night. Ryl, I need you to take off your splint, put these on and come with me now.” The guard that had accompanied the sub-master unbuttoned his uniform shirt and removed his pants revealing the standard clothing of a tribute underneath. He tossed the clothes to Ryl.

  Panic set in as Ryl reached for the splint on his arm. The guards looking for him would have surely noticed him wearing the brace. The disguise wouldn’t work with it. The thought of handing the Leaves and stolen treatment to the guard was a sickening proposal.

  “Now, Ryl, there isn’t time,” Millis hissed impatiently. There was another thud as another unconscious tribute hit the floor.

  Ryl quickly removed the splint, handing it carefully to the guard, who began lashing it to his arm immediately. He hoped that the extra lining would prevent him from noticing the feel of the treatment hidden inside. He rushed to put on the new clothing.

  “Ryl, when we get out of here, you and I are going to walk as calmly as possible back into the guard shack,” sub-master Millis explained. “You will remain inside, no matter what happens. Understand?”

  “Sir, what about my friends? I can’t just leave them here,” Ryl tried to reason with the sub-master.

  “This isn’t the time to argue, Ryl.” Millis’ voice rose as did his anger. “This man’s name is Cavlin. He is one of the best, and a man I’d trust with my life. Your friends will be safer with him.” Ryl finished buttoning his shirt, tucking it in as quickly as possible.

  “We go. Now,” Millis said, grabbing Ryl by the arm and pulling him toward the door. “Remember, stay as calm as you can. Walk straight to the guard shack. I’ll be a step behind you.” Ryl took a deep breath, turning toward the door. Millis put his hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze.

  “You can do this,” Millis said with a fatherly-like reassurance. “Now go.”

  44

  Ryl exited the common house with sub-master Millis on his heels. He focused on walking with the same confident swagger he’d seen from the guards day in and day out. He heard the steps of Millis crunch on the ground behind him.

  The roaring fire the guards had built earlier in the evening had burned low, the glowing orange embers illuminating the scene around it. Spread out around the fire lay the bodies of the guards that had accompanied the tributes from Tabenville. A few were still teetering clumsily on their feet as they quickly made their way past. Ryl looked at the face of the closest guard laying on the ground. The man’s eyes tracked his movement as he and the sub-master made for the small cabin.

  They were almost to the guard shack when the sub-master stumbled behind him.

  “Remember, Ryl,” Millis whispered as he bumped into his back. “Stay inside until I call. I’ll be just outside.”

  Millis gave Ryl a gentle shove from behind as he collapsed to the ground at door to the guard shack. Ryl stumbled uncontrollably toward the door, bracing himself for the impact. The door swung open at the last instant. Ryl’s body pitched forward only to be caught by two sets of strong arms inside the small barracks. The door closed slowly behind him, latching with an audible click.

  “We’ve got you,” one of the guards whispered as he helped Ryl back to his feet.

  A small candle burned in the far corner of the room, shedding its low light on a room that had been altered dramatically since earlier in the day. The three sets of bunks were pushed against the back wall, the room’s windows covered with thick fabric. There were six guards in the room in addition to Ryl. Two had taken up positions watching through slits in the fabric covering the windows. The other four were waiting on the opposite side of the inswing of the door. All had batons in hand.

  Ryl was shuffled to the back of the room.

  “Stay here,” the guard whispered, pointing to the bed. “Lights out.”

  He doused the candle’s flame between his thumb and pointer finger. The room was plunged into blackness.

  Time crept slowly by. Ryl’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. He watched for the movements of the guards. All were statues as they stood their posts. The silence stretched on.

  Ryl worried about Luan. He worried about Tash and Palon. He worried about the other tributes in the common house. It was true that the master wanted him dead, but to what lengths would be go to see that task accomplished? Without a view of the outside, and nothing that he could do in the present situation to help, Ryl lay down on the bunk, staring up into the darkness.

  He shot up in the bed at the sound of the shout from outside.

  “Runners. Two. South, along the lake.” The first alarm, although distant, cut through the silence of the night.

  The camp exploded into motion. The second cry made Ryl’s heart skip a beat.

  “Fire,” the alarm came from much closer this time. “Get the tributes out, the common house is on fire.”

  The four guards closest to the door burst out into the night, heading for the common house. The remaining two moved just outside the doorway, eyes scanning the area for anything out of place.

  With the door ajar, Ryl had a clear view of the common house. Flames had engulfed the back wall, stretching high into the sky. A shower of sparks rained down, fading to black before they reached the ground. Ryl breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Luan was already out of the common house, the small pack containing her worldly possessions in hand, rushing to where sub-master Millis was calling to her. She hadn’t stopped moving before Millis sprinted past her toward the burning building.

  Tash was the next out the door, dragging the sleeping body of Pedlo. Millis wasted no time leaping over the unconscious man’s lower body into the burning common house. The tributes who had refrained from eating the stew emerged next carrying what they could of their belongings. Some dragged other tributes between them. Palon was the last of the tributes out, dragging the sleeping body of another. He deposited the tribute immediately outside the door before rushing back in. Tash was close at his heels.

  Cavlin, still wearing Ryl's splint, was the next out the door. A tribute slung over one shoulder, he dragged another by his feet.

  “Please let me help,” Ryl begged the guards blocking him in the small shack.

  “No,” came the gruff reply from one of his protectors. “Sub-master gave the order that you stay inside, so you stay inside. They’ll get them out.” The guard’s eyes never turned from his post, continuously scanning the night.

  From the look of it, of the nearly fifty guards that had accompanied the tributes from Tabenville only one shift of ten had been allowed to eat the drugged meal. These men lay where they fell, peacefully sleeping around the fire, blissfully oblivious to the chaos swirling around them.

  Of the remaining guards, nearly half were involved in extracting the tributes and anything salvageable from the common house. The others had either given chase after the two shadows seen fleeing along the side of the water, or had fanned out around the camp alert for any motion from without.

  The fire spread rapidly once it reached the roof of the common house. The dry thatching burned hot and fast, igniting the surrounding roofing, spreading quickly down to the walls. Smoke was pouring out of the top half of the door.

  Shirts pul
led up covering their mouths, Tash and Palon helped each other from the burning shell of a building, carrying a pile of tributes’ belongings in their hands. Sub-master Millis was the next out. He ran crouched as low as possible, a single pack thrown over his shoulder.

  “All clear,” Millis called out. “Get me a head count, now. Tributes first. Then see to any wounded.” He doubled over, coughing out a lungful of smoke that was visible from where Ryl stood. A guard moved to support him. Millis waved him off with a glare and a quick flick of his wrist.

  It only took a matter of moments for the head count of the tributes to be completed. All were accounted for, all were alive. Ryl looked at the sub-master with a newfound appreciation. His quick thinking and cunning had, perhaps, saved not only Ryl, but saved them all. He’d risked his life on numerous occasions rushing into the burning building ensuring that every last tribute had escaped.

  The snapping of timber broke through the din of tributes and guards. The center of the common house folded inward, pulling down the rest of the roof, then walls with it. The common house had been reduced to a flaming pile of rubble, billowing thick smoke in the sky, blotting out the stars.

  Millis moved back to the guard’s quarters where Ryl waited with the two remaining guards.

  “I'll take it from here,” the sub-master ordered his men. “I want the tributes moved to the other fire under full guard until we get this mess sorted out.” The pair saluted their commanding officer before rushing off following orders.

  “I believe this is yours,” Millis said, tossing Ryl the pack he was carrying. “Would have been a waste of good liquor.”

  The sub-master gave a wink, then a cough expelling another small cloud of smoke.

  “Thank you, sir,” Ryl said, still in shock at what had just occurred. “He would've killed us all.”

  Before he could respond, Cavlin appeared out of the darkness with another guard following close at his heels.

  “Sir,” Cavlin said with a quick salute. “We were lucky. Injuries are all mild. Scrapes and a few minor burns, nothing more.” Ryl was relieved to see that he was still wearing the splint he'd donned when they traded clothing.

  The second guard stepped forward, saluting before delivering his report.

  “Sir,” the guard said. “We’re missing one, Corporal Epes. He was on watch to the south, a party's out searching for him now. Everyone else is accounted for. No injuries.”

  “Thank you,” sub-master Millis said to his men. “I want to know what happened to Epes as soon as possible. Dismissed.” The second guard saluted before sprinting back toward the others, while Cavlin remained.

  “Time to end this masquerade,” Millis said to Ryl and the guard. “Let's get you changed and back with your friends.”

  Ryl and Cavlin entered the guard shack, quickly switching back into their proper attire. The guard handed the splint back once he'd redressed in his uniform.

  “Comfortable splint you made,” Cavlin said with a smile. “Feels like those sticks need some smoothing out though. Got a few lumps on the inside.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ryl said nervously as he accepted the splint back from the guard. “Supplies were a bit limited. Had to work with what was available.” The guard nodded with a grunt, but said no more as the pair exited the shack heading back to the group that was now positioned around the guards’ rekindled fire pit.

  Luan was the first to see Ryl when he reached the huddled mass of tributes. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing. The twins approached close behind.

  “Why’s this happening,” Luan sobbed.

  “The master has it out for me,” Ryl admitted. “He went too far this time. Everyone here knows that, guards included. This was an attack on them as well. There’ll be a reckoning for this.”

  The fire eating away at the remains of the common house paled in comparison to the fire that ignited within him.

  Luan shuddered and pulled back from him, slipping in between Tash and Palon.

  “That look in your eyes, Ryl, it terrifies me,” Luan said clearly shaken. “It’s the same look you had in your eyes before you confronted Osir. The same look you gave before you almost died.”

  She started weeping again, finding solace in the arms of Tash.

  “I’m sorry for frightening you, Luan,” Ryl said sheepishly. “Harvest is in a matter of days. I’ll not do anything foolish before then.” She calmed slightly at the statement.

  Ryl was contrite for having lied to his friends. He sat down on the ground, pulling his knees toward his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Facing the fire the guards had reestablished, feeling the heat of the blaze on his face, his mind wandered to dark thoughts and devious plans.

  The master would pay for this. He would see to it.

  45

  Sleep came with frustration for Ryl and the remaining tributes who’d not been drugged. The traumatic events of the evening left them shaken, many spending the night watching for shadows on the outskirts of their small camp. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves sent a momentary jolt of panic through their fear-addled minds.

  The missing corporal had been found bloodied and unconscious, caught by surprise by the retreating arsonists. He’d slept peacefully, under close watch with the tributes and his fellow guards who were still unconscious as their bodies dealt with the effects of the drugs. He had awoken near morning, relaying his tale to the sub-master. Having seen the fire creeping up the rear of the common house, he’d begun running back to raise the alarm. So focused was he on the fire, he’d run straight into the pair of escaping guards who’d easily overpowered him in the dark. Sub-master Millis was irate. The normally placid man was smoldering as he paced the outskirts of the camp in the dim light of the rising sun.

  The guards and tributes who’d suffered the brunt of the drugs, began waking shortly before sunrise. Groggy and confused, but otherwise unharmed, they listened with rapt attention as the events of the night were retold. By mid-morning all were awake, the small camp packed, and the caravan of guards and tributes moved sluggishly down the main road. Batons were drawn in the hands of the readied guards as they scanned the surrounding landscape for any sign of danger.

  For Ryl, dawn broke with the realization that three mornings from now would be the Harvest, the closing chapter on his life in The Stocks. The worry persisted. Would this be the closing chapter of his life as well? Tired and lost in thought, he was especially dour as the procession marched slowly to the south. It promised to be an exceptionally long, tiring day before they reached their destination at Thayers Rest.

  Shortly after their departure from the smoking ruins of the Stillwater camp, the train came to an abrupt halt. The dust cloud growing on the horizon and the thunder of hooves foretold the rapid approach of cavalry from the south. Wasting no time, sub-master Millis and his small troop sprang into action, forming a protective barrier between the tributes and the unknown party. Cavlin and two other guards fell to the rear, positioning themselves behind Ryl.

  “Stay with Cavlin, do not leave his side,” Millis ordered as he turned his mount, galloping to take position at the front.

  Ryl’s hand nervously fell to his splint, to the Leaves. After last night, his resolution was concrete. He would not stand idly by while other tributes were harmed in an effort to harm him. If it was a fight they wanted, he was determined not to disappoint, regardless of the cost.

  The tributes huddled together behind the wall of guards, fear written across their faces. They had grown hardened from an unfairly volatile and harsh life, shrugging off the hard labor, insults and even physical abuse. Never before had the tributes faced open attempts of murder. After the tumultuous previous night, in their beleaguered minds, the sounds of the fast approaching troops heralded their doom.

  The incoming cavalry came into view as they rounded a small copse of trees bordering the side of the road. Ryl estimated there were twenty in the group. The lead rider raised an arm rapidly halting the charge at the sight of sub-ma
ster Millis and his troops bearing arms, readied to meet their charge.

  The lead rider separated from the group, walking his horse forward, stopping halfway between the two lines.

  “Sub-master Millis,” the lead guard announced. “This is no way to greet a friend.” His large white smile stood out against his dark skin.

  The tension in the sub-master visibly relaxed as he recognized the rider, walking his horse forward to meet the lone guard. The men under his command remained firmly at attention. The conversation between the sub-master and the newcomer was hushed. Ryl couldn't make out a word.

  Ryl jumped as Cavlin placed his hand on Ryl's shoulder.

  “That man is Lieutenant Moyan. He’s Millis’ lifelong friend and protégé,” Cavlin whispered. “He's also Captain Le'Dral’s right hand man. Must have come to investigate the fire. ‘Twas a clear night last night, a blaze like that would have been easily noted from the palisades.” Ryl nodded his head in response, watching as the sub-master and the lieutenant cheerfully shook hands.

  “Stand down,” Millis announced, turning his head toward his readied troop. “Form up, ready for march.” The troops followed instructions immediately, quickly assuming their marching order. Cavlin took up position at Ryl’s side.

  The lieutenant returned to his small cavalry, barking out orders of his own. With routine precision, the cavalry broke into two groups, the bulk of which wheeled to the south, forming the new head of the exhausted column. Four riders, including Lieutenant Moyan, rode with Millis to the rear, bolstering the rear guard. A pair of riders broke from the lead group, driving their horses to a gallop, racing south down the road toward Cadsae.

  Ryl was afforded a better look at the lieutenant as he rode past. Moyan was an immense man. Not at all obese, his massive frame looked rather out of place atop his horse. Purely judging by stature alone, he reminded Ryl of his fellow tribute, Zed, the unassuming gentle giant of The Stocks. Ryl guessed that the lieutenant stood a whole head taller than himself, and easily twice the weight.