by C. J. Aaron
“I have you to thank for coming to my rescue. Again,” Ryl said honestly. “I’d be dead at least three times now if not for you.”
“Ah, just in the right place at the right time,” Andr said as if nothing had happened, patting Ryl gently on the back. “Come help me bury that last piece with the rest of the debris behind that rock. I doubt anyone’ll come looking here of all places, but I’d rather them not find evidence we were here if they do.”
Andr helped Ryl to his feet. His legs still felt weak, his body bruised. Yet, all things considered after the eventful night, he was alive and whole.
He was free.
Ryl followed Andr toward the last remaining piece of the skiff that carried them through the storm. They both hoisted an end of the wreck, carrying it slowly to the hole Andr had dug behind a rock near the cliff’s face.
Ryl stopped dead in his tracks. He dropped his end of the mast, his hand traveling frantically into his cloak, desperately feeling for his small pack that he had tucked away to weather the storm.
The pack was gone.
The Leaves were gone.
The treatment was gone.
Andr dropped the broken mast, hurrying to his side.
“Is everything all right, Ryl?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice. “You don’t look so good.”
“Andr,” Ryl gasped. “Have you seen the pack I was carrying? I had it tucked under my cloak when I went overboard.”
His heart pounded in his chest. He felt each thump throughout the entirety of his body. He was trembling uncontrollably.
“It’s ok, Ryl,” Andr said reassuringly. “I have your bag. There’s a small cave part way up the ravine. I left it there. I was looking for firewood to dry us out when I heard you calling.”
“Take me to it, now,” Ryl said abruptly, hurrying toward the ravine without waiting for Andr.
The guard scrambled up ahead of him, ducking into a small opening on the right. There was a meager pile of sticks in the center of the floor. His pack was leaning against the rough wall by the opening. Ryl threw himself to his knees, tearing the pack open. His heart was racing with anticipation.
He shoved his hand in and he came out holding the dripping remains of his splint. Ryl breathed a momentary sigh of relief. The Leaves were still strapped within their supports. His relief was crushed in an instant as his fingers ran along the length of the secret pouch he’d made for the stolen treatments.
He ripped open both sides, confirming his fears.
The treatment was gone.
Every last pill had dissolved when submerged in the salt water, leaving only a foul-smelling, sticky residue in their place.
“What is it, Ryl?” Andr questioned.
“Did any of the supplies survive the storm?” Ryl asked frantically.
“I’m afraid not, no trace of them washed ashore,” Andr answered. “What’s going on?”
Ryl quickly relayed all he’d learned about the true nature of the so called treatment and an undetailed version of his theft of the supply. As a former guard, Andr was well aware of the side effects.
“I’m sorry, Ryl,” Andr comforted, seemingly lost for words. “Stay here. I’ll get a fire going, then finish burying the mast.”
Ryl clutched the Leaves to his chest, leaning back against the cold wall as Andr quickly started a small fire before heading out to bury the mast. The guard had wedged a small board from the skiff across the narrow entrance to the cave. Ryl wrung out his shirt and cloak, hanging them over the board to dry.
The stolen treatments, along with the extra Gencep had stored with their provisions, would have given him over two moons worth of time to find a safe place to weather the side effects. While he was in the company of someone he could trust, they were now lost in the Outlands with no safe harbor in sight. His time left before the sickness began was running out.
Andr returned quickly. The pair sat in silence as they dried their clothes by the fire. The sun was nearing midday when Andr let the small fire burn out, burying its embers in the sand.
“It’s time we get moving, Ryl,” he said regretfully.
Ryl got dressed quickly. The warmth of his dried clothes spread new life to his weary body as he followed Andr up the ravine. He hung his empty pack over his shoulder, carrying the Leaves in his hands.
The pair reached the top of the ravine to a foreign terrain. Spreading out in every direction was the nearly monochrome expanse of the Outlands. The burnt orange ground was dotted with boulders and low ridges, small patches of stunted trees, shrubs and withered-looking grasses. Far off in the distance, the jagged peaks of the mountains were silhouetted against the blue sky. Andr broke the silence.
“Lord Eligar said to get you here, said you’d know where to go next,” Andr relayed.
Ryl thought back to last words of Da’agryn, from their brief time together in the Erlyn.
“We head north,” Ryl said. “Toward the mountains. However far they are.”
“If your last treatment was the day before last, we have, what, seven days before the symptoms begin?” Andr asked.
“Aye, something like that,” Ryl replied disheartened.
Andr put his hand on Ryl’s shoulder. He turned to meet his determined stare.
“Well then, we’d better hurry, Ryl,” Andr said, a look of hope written across his face.
The guard’s mouth slowly formed a crooked smile.
“It’s time to get you to your friends,” Andr said. “Time to get you to the phrenic.”
*** END OF BOOK 1 ***
Message To The Reader:
Simply saying thank you isn’t enough express my gratitude to you for purchasing and reading A Tribute at the Gates! I truly hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is my freshman entry into the world of epic fantasy novels, and am happy to say I’m now hooked. Stay tuned, The Catalyst Book 2 is well in the works.
Please take a second to write a brief review of this book. Reviews are the lifeblood of authors, without them we struggle to survive. I would personally like to thank you again if you decide to do so.
This book wouldn't exist today without the help of a few incredible people.
First of course, my family for their unending support. Writing is a personal endeavor which had me secreted away during quite a few free hours, especially at night. My amazing and uniquely creative daughter for her inspiration for a variety of names and locations.
Steven P. for being there from the start. You've been the sounding board for all of my ideas (some decent, some terrible) and have willingly subjected yourself to reading Book 1 in every form to date.
Last but certainly not least, Stevie Collier, AC Cobble and Daniel Hylton, three of my favorite authors, I can't thank you enough for your advice and support for a fellow author learning the ropes.
Thank you for joining me on this adventure!
-CJA
About the Author
CJ Aaron is an American Fantasy Author who relocated from the four seasons of the northeast to the nearly perpetual sauna of the third coast.
When he isn’t writing fantasy, you can find him working as a jack of all trades in the digital world or spending time with his wife, two children, two dogs, two cats and an ever-changing menagerie of foster animals.
Raised on a steady diet of fantasy and science fiction, he is still an avid reader, lover of movies, video games and pretending to be a musician
Contact
I’d love to hear from you if you have any questions, comments, feedback, etc. You can follow along on the adventure and find me at:
[email protected]
Like me on Facebook! @cjaaron.author
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