by C. J. Aaron
The mender, with Sarial at his side, had wasted no time treating the wounded from the surprise attack. Three of the soldiers—among the first to answer the call to battle, who’d come charging with weapons drawn to the fray—had been struck by arrows. One was dead by the time Jeffers reached his side. The others had sustained injuries, thankfully, none too severe. Their care was left in the hands of others as the mender hastened to triage the remainder.
Frustratingly, Jeffers was at a loss at the conditions of both Ryl and Kaep. Neither showed any signs of physical damage, yet they were unable to be roused from their unconscious state. Their care and watch were left to Nielix and Dav. With the assistance of several tributes, they were carefully moved to the nearest shelter, the stable, while preparations to vacate Tabenville commenced.
With Ryl unavailable, Andr found himself in the uncomfortable position as the liaison for the diverse groups that now comprised their ragtag community. The phrenics communicated directly with him. The Vigil, under instruction from the council, followed his lead. His name and subsequent exploits were well known among the guards. As Ryl’s companion and savior, his voice was trusted amongst the tributes.
The sun had risen, cresting above the trees to the east. The long shadows stretched out, hiding a good portion of the clearing that was Tabenville in deep shadows. The activity had been constant as they rushed to vacate the small settlement. Knowing the truth behind the origins of the Lei Guards whose bodies lay unmoving, yet still clinging to life, the decision was made to envelop them into the fold of their ragtag group.
Andr stood motionless along the road just past the stables. His eyes moved slowly from side to side as he surveyed the remnants of the tense battle that had rolled across the recently harvested earth. The dark soil was stained with patches of blood. Their passage had been cleared for their retreat. The bodies of the soldiers who’d come for their lives had been dragged from the road, yet lay crumpled in the dirt.
A strange sensation washed over Andr. He’d grown accustomed to the influx of projected emotions from the phrenics. The call of the woods since she had granted him her boon had been almost constant. She pleaded for them to come. She demanded urgency.
Yet this call was something different. It was a desire that bubbled up from within. Its potency, likely a result of an event that had altered the direction of his noble yet foolish course. The simple act of aiding Ryl that morning on the dusty road from Tabenville had set in motion the events that would rewrite the history of a kingdom. It had carried him to the end of the world and back.
The image of Ryl from that day was clear in his mind. The boy he looked on was barely older than a child. Fragile, broken and scared. Yet still, there was something magnetic that had drawn him to the boy. It had been a turning point in his troubled life.
Andr scanned the activity in the village. It wasn’t long before his eyes fell on the object of his search.
Cray.
The young man stood at the head of a group of tributes toward the edge of the square. His actions spoke of coordination as they assisted in the preparations for the movement. As if looking upon him for the first time in ages, Andr marveled at how much he’d grown. He was tall and slender, yet muscular from the cycles of hard labor. His shaggy hair jostled in the breeze. A sword was tucked carefully into his belt.
Gone was the desperate look that had been permanently etched onto his face. Onto the face of all the tributes. Andr watched as Cray’s eyes moved across the activity that overtook the sleepy settlement, observing with calculated care. His expression was still tinged with anxiety, as their future, their safety was still tenuous, hanging precariously in the balance. Underneath the rough exterior, he saw something that had been largely lost to The Stocks since its inception.
Hope.
Andr could see it in Cray. He could see it in his posture: his shoulders rolled back, his head held high. He exuded an unmistakable air of confidence. A similar attitude played out across many of the tributes in the square. They had proven to be a resilient lot. Andr was keenly aware of the power that dwelled within each of them.
For the first time, they did too.
The tiny morsel of information was enough to enact a potent change in the downtrodden tributes.
They had seen firsthand what Ryl, what the phrenics could do. That they possessed even a sliver of that power, even in its raw, unfiltered form, was uplifting. None knew what skills were veiled behind the poison that obscured the alexen in their veins. Regardless, they represented a force that would be unstoppable should they be granted the reprieve to awaken the talents.
Time, however, was not a luxury that was on their side.
Le’Dral cleared his throat, warning Andr of his approach as he neared. From the cramped square, the procession began rumbling toward the opening of the woods. The tributes marched along with the wagons now loaded to capacity with the wounded and ailing. A little over half of the guards marched in order, escorting them forward. The remainder of the fighting force of the gathering would remain alert and on guard, keeping a careful eye on the securely bound Lei Guard.
“The Erlyn awaits, then?” the captain offered as he stopped alongside Andr. His eyes covered the expanse of the forest’s edge. They filled with wonder as he gazed upon her not as merely a collection of trees, but a being, sentient and wise. The approach of the phrenics was stealthy, as if they moved without sound. The soft crunch of loose dirt underfoot was muffled by the squeaking of the wagons’ wheels.
“Do you know the pathway into her depths?” Le’Dral inquired. Though he likely meant it not, the slight flavor of doubt clouded his words. Uncertainty roiled in Andr’s gut at the unintended challenge.
Did he possess the strength to wrest control over the woods? Looking at the trees and knots of brush and bramble before him, he felt miniscule.
Insignificant.
Powerless.
Andr felt as if the weight of the branches would crush him where he stood.
“We’ll soon find out.” Andr sighed, though his eyes remained trained on the forest.
Vox arrived at his opposite side. Ramm fell in line a step after. Andr felt a wave of calm wash over him. The external sensation was followed by one of confidence.
“The Erlyn’s gift has already been proven. That you still live is proof of that alone,” the phrenic elementalist noted. “Do not lose confidence. You will know the way. We will be by your side.”
“Aye.” Ramm added his agreement. “Ryl trusts you, as do we. Let’s lead them to the safety of the woods.”
Andr turned his head, meeting the eyes of the phrenics in turn. He nodded subtly in acknowledgment. In agreement. Without another word, he strode forward at the head of the caravan that filed from the village.
The Erlyn called to him. Her song was that of welcome.
Of hope.
Chapter 5
The trees closed around him, blotting out the rapidly swelling light of day. Andr moved ahead with purpose. The interior of the path leading through the Erlyn Woods was dim, though it appeared brighter than he remembered. Even with the dense brambles that choked the avenues and sight lines into her depth, he now understood what lay hidden beyond.
At least a small portion of what was disguised behind the veil of foliage.
The gloom, darkness, and impassable underbrush concealed further insight into her interior. He knew the woods wouldn’t give up all her secrets so easily.
The character of the call he had sensed from the forest had altered. While standing on the fields of Tabenville, the voice was desperate. Sheltered by the limbs of the forest, there was comfort in the emotion. A subtle hint of a warm breeze projected from the shadowed depths. Gooseflesh rose on his arms as it tickled his senses.
There was unique calm underneath the boughs of the Erlyn, yet a lingering anxiety remained. The woods felt weak.
The sensation of relief swelled as the first of the wagons crossed into the darkened maw of the forest. Andr pivoted, viewin
g the weary procession that followed. The answer to the increased emotion was clear. Jeffers drove the lead wagon. His incapacitated cargo included Ryl, Kaep, Cavlin and several other tributes recovering from their extended ordeal within the torturous chamber of the facility. The sedate shell that was Elias sat against the rear wall, his eyes unfocused, staring blankly out into nothingness. A contingent of Le’Dral’s guards flanked both sides of the wagon.
Following closely behind the first carriage ambled the entirety of the tributes’ population. Their weariness was evident. They had been pushed relentlessly for days. With a secure camp, they’d soon have their well-deserved rest. Andr pitied them. Battling the ravages of the sickness would be anything but rejuvenating.
At least in the interim.
He was curious. It was with a sense of bated anticipation that he waited to witness the changes that would emerge after the last of the poison was stripped from their veins. Once their true powers were revealed, the results were sure to be awe inspiring.
Just before they reached the first bend in the shadowed path through the Erlyn, Andr stopped. At his back the procession ground to a halt. His eyes squinted as he struggled to peer into the inky depths of the woods. Try as hard as he could, his vision of the interior failed after only a few meters.
Behind him, the procession waited, giving him a berth of several meters. Le’Dral stood at the head of Jeffers’s wagon, his hand hovering close to the hilt of his sheathed sword. Ramm, the massive phrenic, remained alongside the wagon carrying Ryl, Kaep and the still-bound Elias.
Vox halted at Andr’s side. The phrenic elementalist clapped him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger, giving him an encouraging squeeze.
“We’ve placed an unfair burden on you, my friend,” Vox commiserated. His eyes studied the wall of trees with an unguarded reverence. The tales he’d likely been raised on, of the history that had been forgotten by Damaris, colored his view of their surroundings. The woods were a mythical benefactor, a protector of their society. Staring into the face of the fabled trees was thrilling.
“This is a task for those who’ve grown accustomed to projecting emotions,” Vox continued. “Once the way has been opened, once we have seen the destination, we can share this burden with you.”
Andr grunted in acknowledgment. He was determined to succeed, no matter the cost.
“Close your eyes. Focus on the vision inside your mind,” the phrenic relayed. “Picture every detail as best you can remember. The color of the leaves. The motion of the blades of grass as they dance in the wind.”
Andr did as he was told, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Vox carried on quietly, reciting detail after detail as he explained the intricacies of the image that needed to be pictured. The melodic tone of the phrenic’s voice muffled to nothing more than a calming hum as Andr focused on the task at hand.
He concentrated on the darkness once his eyelids blocked out the light. Andr scoured his memory for the traces of the vision that the Erlyn had imparted. At the moment, they were nothing more than random flashes. Brief, fragmented portraits of an unknown location, one yet to be experienced firsthand.
The disjointed images should have been benign in appearance. Like viewing a painting of a far-off locale, the expectations of a physical response were minimal. Andr gasped aloud as he concentrated on the image of the clearing that the Erlyn had forced upon his consciousness.
The massive pillars of the trees, set in a wide circle, were eerily familiar. He felt as if he’d stood among the giants long before, yet had been separated for cycles. The light that streamed through the holes in the canopy above splashed onto the ground in wide circles, overpowering the dull glow of the luminescent mosses. He felt the slight hint of a breeze that circulated through the area. The air was warm, refreshing. There was a strong hint of earth and a mild note of smoke from a fire long since extinguished.
The images that flashed in his mind rotated as if his body pivoted for a more complete view of the interior. At the base of each gigantic tree, a slender opening created a door into the chamber below. Though he’d never stepped foot into the area, his mind confirmed the details. The clear, dry earth was dotted with patches of spongy mosses. A ring of a half dozen pallets lay dormant against the outside walls. They had the appearance of extreme age, yet the rest they offered was enticing. That they had remained intact throughout the cycles was a wonder.
The sprawling clearing between the trees was empty, yet it held the lingering resonance of activity. The ground was covered in a sweeping layer of thin green grasses. The pristine blades swayed in a breeze that seemed to materialize from the forest itself. Though in centuries, none had likely seen, nor stepped foot into this sanctuary, Andr could still feel the ghosts of the phrenic warriors of ages past who roamed the open space.
Confident that his picture of the inner sanctuary of the phrenics was complete, Andr focused on forcing the image outward toward the forest. He visualized the image that formed inside his mind, concentrating on the minute details of the environment. Gritting his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut, the muscles in his face twitched as he strained. Andr pictured his visualization streaming from his body as if he screamed it into the depths of the woods. For what felt like an eternity, he pushed with all his might. The phrenics had explained the process as best they could, yet the application was foreign, as clouded as teaching one with no hearing what it’s like to experience a harmony of voices.
As he forced the image outward, his concentration wavered. His hopes of succeeding faltered, as did his energy. The strain was supremely taxing. When he felt that he could give no more, he snapped his eyes open.
The vision that registered in his brain was blurred. The details blended together in a great wash of earthy tones, shades of browns mixed with deep hues of green. Sparse patches of light blue seemed to glow and pulse throughout.
The image swirled as Andr’s legs gave out. The uncontrolled collapse to the ground felt never ending. His body was weightless as his shaking legs crumpled under him.
Hands supported him from under both of his arms, allaying his fall. It took a moment for the garbled tones to resolve into intelligible speech. The words were muffled, hidden beneath the thundering of his heart. His chest heaved from the exertion, and his breaths came in rapid sucking gasps.
The finite reality of the forest before him slowly registered in his wandering mind. The trees were identical to what had stood before him only moments earlier. No pathway had opened.
He had failed.
He angled his head to the side, looking upon the face of the one whose steady hands had supported him. Andr made no attempt to hide the regret. The doubt and the emptiness of failure were written clearly across his face.
Vox smiled as he spoke.
“Have no fear, my friend,” the phrenic responded. “The effort is taxing, even for those who’ve trained for the application. Those who were born with the gift you only just received are frequently disheartened by their early results. I felt your call. It was faint, yet it was clear. Never before has man possessed the ability to do what you did without the aid of the alexen in their blood.”
“Did the Erlyn hear it?” Andr struggled to form the words between heavy breaths. He felt his tenuous grip on consciousness slipping as the overpowering exhaustion weighed him down. His body sank further toward the earth as his legs failed to support any weight. The steadying arms under his shoulders braced him, holding him aloft.
The grin on Vox’s face grew. His gaze lifted from Andr to the forest before them.
The response came not from the phrenic elementalist, but from without. The wave of emotion rushed over him from all sides as the Erlyn flooded his senses with a feeling of hope and of calm. The sensation was rejuvenating.
There was a muffled rustle of leaves brushing together as if a gentle breeze moved through the trees. In front of him the woods rippled and swirled. Andr struggled to make out the image that materialized out of the contorting trees. After
a moment, through blurred visions, the opening before him resolved.
The gap that opened between the trees was wide and tall, easily accommodating the wagon flanked by Le’Dral’s rebel guards. A breath of air pushed through the opening. It was warm, heavy with the scent of earth and a lingering hint of ash. The surface of the road was flat and smooth, though it had the appearance of being heavily traveled and well maintained. Short grasses grew along the edges, though they hesitated to encroach on the hard-packed earth of the roadway.
Glowing mosses were plentiful along the trees lining the path. At several seemingly random intervals, wide patches of dappled light streamed in from gaps in the foliage high above. In the distance, it was obvious that a clearing opened. The area was bright, shining through the gloom of the pathway like a beacon in the trees.
Without a word, the procession of wagons and tributes moved forward. Le’Dral was at the lead, ushering the weary fugitives into the mouth of the path. Vox eased Andr to the side of the roadway, allowing the procession to move beyond.
The captain grinned as he greeted Andr with an appreciative nod.
Ramm paused for a moment to place his hand on Andr’s shoulder. A gentle wave of appreciation flowed from him before he continued on. Andr caught the view of Ryl’s unconscious form as the wagon slipped by.
Several meters later, at the head of the tributes, Cray viewed the mercenary with a look of unrestrained awe.
Chapter 6
Commotion abounded in the inner sanctum of the Erlyn. The activity was endless, choreographed by the animated Mender Jeffers. The captain’s guards who remained in the clearing, though they numbered few, worked diligently arranging the wounded inside the chambers of the closest trees to the disguised path they’d entered on.