by C. J. Aaron
Ryl eased out into the hallway. The wind swelled silently around his right arm, waiting for its chance to be released. The fingers of his opposite hand twitched in anticipation. The Leaves remained dormant, though their willingness to ignite was potent.
His footsteps were hushed as he progressed deeper into the barracks. In truth, Ryl knew virtually nothing of the disposition of the building’s interior. His brief introduction to the captain in the foyer had lasted but moments. From there he’d seen no more than the scant shower room before he was led through the tunnel to The Stocks beyond. Aside from this brief glimpse, Ryl had witnessed only one other room inside the facility.
The captain’s quarters.
Ryl knew that Le’Dral’s chambers were on the second floor. From his knowledge of the layout of the building, he assumed they would be of little trouble to find. He rationalized that if the captain’s quarters were on the upper levels, the other officers or dignitaries were bound to have residences there as well. Though he might not stumble on Le’Dral’s possessions, it was likely that other officers would have more to offer in the way of disguises than did the average guard plying his trade among the open quarters of other soldiers. If he could but locate a main hallway, a stairwell would be a logically easy discovery.
He slowed, casting a side eye at every door along his path through the hall. Ryl had paused, gently testing the handle of the first several he passed. Finding each of them locked, he continued deeper into the guard station. The illumination from the torch set on the wall ahead swelled as he progressed.
Three-quarters of the way down the hall, Ryl paused at the doorway to his right. To this point, it was the only one that had been left ajar. A sweet smell of soap wafted from within. The slow but rhythmic thump of falling water resounded from its interior.
The scent brought Ryl to a standstill. The fragrance, though a distant memory, had been ingrained into his memory. His breath caught in his throat as he stumbled clumsily to a stop.
Ryl peered into the gloom of the vacant room. It was here, roughly a decade ago, that he had been led, stripped down, scrubbed with coarse brushes, and given the ill-fitting clothes that would come to define his station. The courtesy of a shower was the last, pitiful human interaction he was afforded with those who dwelled outside the walls. From that moment forward, he was no longer a boy, but a crop. A commodity to be raised and harvested like cattle. Beaten like slaves. No regard had been given to his life or comfort.
He hissed as he strode past the room. That history was behind him now. It was behind the tributes. If he could see it happen, none would ever languish in the same disparity that had befallen him or the countless others before him.
Ryl reached the terminus of the hall in a matter of paces. To his right, the light from the torch at his front spilled out the open foyer door. The slats of the window opposite his position allowed diagonal sheets of light to spill into the empty room, though it failed to reach where he was located. The air seemed to be choked with a cloud of residual smoke that hung just below the ceiling. It gave off the odor of burnt leaves and wood.
His inquisitive eyes viewed the room cautiously for a moment. It was there he’d first met Captain Le’Dral. The kind eyes of the officer had been so distinctly different from the apathetic or vengeful looks he’d grown unfortunately accustomed to seeing throughout the tumultuous journey to Cadsae Proper.
There was no hint of motion in the dim entryway. He scanned the area with his mindsight, unsurprised to see no sign of tribute or Horde aside from the modest signature of Aelin tucked safely away to his rear.
To his left, Ryl found an open hallway. A lantern burned a few meters ahead. The light travelled for some distance before merging with the glow of a second lantern further down the corridor. Doorways were spaced evenly along both sides of the hallway, though none showed any light or signs of inhabitation. With both hands at the ready, he stalked further into the interior.
His intuition was rewarded early as the first doorway down the hall to his left opened into a stairwell. The winding steps stretched upward, leading toward the second level of the barracks. As he peered into the gloom, the light from another flame illuminated the second level above.
With all the stealth he could muster, Ryl bounded up the stairs. The wooden steps were surprisingly well constructed. Even with his enhanced agility, they voiced no groans of protest as he ascended.
The memories assailed him. How many nights had he and Elias snuck around the common house, eager for childish mischief? How many nights had the ever-present watch of Sarial captured them in the act?
Ryl froze again as he reached the second level of the barracks. Here, the first sounds of any inhabitants reached his ears. The muffled notes of animated conversation floated down the expanse of the interior hall. The noise was distant, though just how far was uncertain. They had somehow missed the commotion of his battle with their doomed comrades.
He surveyed the hall as he listened. The wall opposite from where he exited was separated by doors evenly spaced several meters apart. From his brief stay in Le’Dral’s quarters, he estimated the size to be appropriate to the spacing on the wall. Sconces inhabited the spaces between entries, though the lantern was absent from each. At the far end of the hall to his left a single lantern burned low. Its illumination was lost far before reaching his location.
As with the floor below, the upper level was nearly as dark and dreary as the lower chambers. He scoffed at the flaw in the design of the space. No windows to the outside graced the interior hallway. Though the light from the afternoon sun still brightened the world outside, the space inside the barracks was dark. The dismal streaks of light snuck in from under the gaps in the doorways facing the outer wall. Through neglect or apathy, the token force left to maintain the city had let all but a few of the lanterns fade.
Ryl’s cautious observation halted as his eyes fell on the first doorway to the left of his position. The wooden frame was marred with chips and scratches from where blades had repeatedly struck its surface. The door itself had several deep gouges that were likely made from forceful strikes from a heave axe.
He silently slipped across the hallway, reaching the damaged doorway within an instant. A chuckle from the end of the hallway echoed through the hollow passage, bouncing off the drab wooden walls. His heart skipped a beat as the sudden exultation receded to the low grumble of conversation.
The scarring on the door before him was shocking in comparison to its initial viewing. From floor to ceiling, there were scrapes and scars speaking to the innumerable blades that had bitten into its hard wood. Large chunks were missing in places. The knob to the door hung carelessly from its socket, dangling by the last remaining strip of bent metal. A sliver of space remained between the panel of the door and the jamb, as the inoperable lock could hold the door closed no longer.
The chips of wood strewn across the ground crunched as he approached. A large swath of the surface of the door was slick with an undetermined moisture.
Ryl pressed his hand against the heavy wooden panel, careful to avoid the untold liquid. He was unsurprised that the door swung inward with little effort. The hinges protested, issuing an unnatural shriek that seemed to thunder down the hall. Carefully, he slipped into the darkened room, easing the door shut behind him as he passed. For a moment, he refused to move. He waited, listening for any sign that his presence had been discovered.
The muffled voices from down the hallway continued their carousel.
Ryl was stuck with a wave of nostalgia as he entered the room, though the environs were vastly different from his last visit. Streams of diffused light entered from the window, passing through the slats in the shutters, casting thin strips of light across the floor. The captain’s casual order had been reduced to shambles, as the entirety of his domain had been ransacked. Books and papers were strewn across the floor. Tomes appeared to have been torn, shredded in pieces, for the sake of destruction alone. The large wooden desk along the r
ear wall had been toppled. It lay face down on the floor. Neatly arranged bookshelves were now completely devoid of their cargo, their tatters scattered around the room with wanton disregard.
Ryl disregarded the mess, as what he sought lay not amongst the mess of torn pages. To his left, the door to Le’Dral’s personal quarters hung at a dramatic angle from the frame. The single upper hinge clung desperately to the heavy wood, though he knew the fight would soon be over. The captain’s room was no less of a mess than his study. The light here was more muted, the air stuffier than the study beyond. The bed, which dominated the room, was cockeyed, the mattress hanging off the edge. Sheets were torn, spread across the floor as those who’d searched it pried for information. The wardrobe against the far wall drew his attention, hastening his approach.
The cabinet doors were partially closed, though a piece of fabric prevented them from shutting entirely. Ryl was surprised to find a well-stocked arrangement of shirts hung in neat order. Upon closer examination, the frayed threads that hung from the sleeves told of precious insignias and metals removed from the dress garments.
The shelf above seemed largely untouched. Pants were neatly stacked in piles. Tunics were folded in a tower alongside. Several plain caps rested to their right. The fabric was drab, inornate.
Perfect.
Ryl returned the solitary weapon in his hand to its holster, collecting the first pair of pants, shaking them out to view the outfit. They bore no markings or insignia of rank, yet were the plain utilitarian garb of the Cadsae Proper guard. Without wasting time, Ryl grabbed several of each, Enough for himself, Aelin and Kaep should a disguise aid their eventual retreat. Stuffing the pants, tunics and caps into the crude pack before returning it to his shoulder.
Enough time had been wasted. He needed to return to Aelin. He needed to find Kaep.
Ryl waited for a moment as he reached the outer door. There had been no sounds of others aside from the casual conversation from down the hall since he’d entered. He reached for the crooked handle to exit the ransacked room. Heavy footsteps on the stairs gave him pause.
Ryl’s hand fell instinctively to the Leaves in the holster concealed behind his back, though he hesitated to remove the weapon. The thumping of feet resolved into the sound of a pair of guards walking noisily into the hall. The stairwell was a short diagonal trek across the narrow hallway. Had Ryl been on the stairs, he’d have collided with the pair of guards. Their casual pace signaled that they had not yet discovered the bodies of their companions.
He tensed as they approached the doorway. The light from the lantern they carried cast a moving line across the floor at his feet. There was a guttural rasping sound as one of the soldiers cleared his throat.
“Traitor.” His voice was garbled from the excess phlegm stored in his mouth. There was the slapping sound of the thick liquid against the door.
“It’s quiet in here,” one said. “They must still be on patrol. Lucky for us, we’ll get first crack at her.”
The other chuckled as they moved past the door.
“’Tis a shame it’s only the one,” came the muted reply as they exited the hallway into the room at the opposite end. The exaltations of the others inside echoed through the quiet of the barracks.
Ryl’s interest was piqued. Could they have been referring to Kaep? His blood boiled at the thought of her in captivity. He was all too familiar with the twisted carnal desires that plagued the guards left in charge of The Stocks. He would not let another suffer the fate that had befallen Luan or nearly Sarial.
It required only a moment to scan the area for any signs of Kaep or the Lei Guard, finding neither. The small glow from Aelin remained steady and still. He could hear the excitement grow from the voices inside the room down the hall. He inched the door open a crack, testing the volume of the noisy hinges. As an exceptionally loud burst of laughter erupted from the distant room, he pulled the door open far enough to squeeze through, darting silently into the stairwell across the hall.
His thoughts turned to the frightened tribute concealed in the gatehouse as he crept down the darkened stairs. Ryl would rather stay ahead of the guards, placing himself between Aelin and the soldiers should their path lead toward The Stocks. He paused again as he reached the exit to the stairs. Peering his head out from the doorway, he could see that none moved in the hall to his left or the dimly lit foyer to his right.
From above, the echo of the animated voices continued. The excitement had peaked into muffled cheers. Simultaneously, a commotion of some sort seemed to be brewing outside in the courtyard before the gates. Ryl’s heart leapt in his chest as his concern for Aelin surged to the forefront. He slipped from the doorway, darting toward the entrance to the interior hallway as the heavy wooden exterior door to the foyer swung open. Light from the late day sun angled directly toward his position, illuminating the hall in startling clarity. He saw the silhouettes of two guards, a third smaller form jostled rudely between them.
Ryl ducked into the first open doorway along the corridor. His shoes slipped as they lost traction on the wet, sloped floor. He fell to his knees, placing his hand on the ground, stopping his body from falling completely unchecked. The passing of his hands and feet disturbed the sediment on the weathered stone floor below. The sweet scent of harsh soap wafted into his nostrils.
There was virtually no light here, as functioning lanterns had been confined to the building’s more necessary chambers. The image in Ryl’s head was still clear, though cycles old. The fire that had been burning quietly in the corner of the room had long faded out. He was sure there would be several buckets of water awaiting the next warming.
To his dismay, the voices from the foyer continued up the hallway in his direction. Their voices grew clear as they approached. He flattened himself into the corner opposite the small fireplace. He silently slid one of the Leaves out of the holster behind his back with his left hand.
There would be no escaping without a fight.
“Get her cleaned up,” grumbled the first voice. His tone was harsh, raspy and cruel, though it spoke with clear anticipation. “Thought a little grime would fool us, did you?”
The light that entered the chamber washed in an arc across the opposite side of the room from his location. The speaker had paused just outside the doorway. A muffled groan of a female’s voice preceded the shadow that momentarily obscured the light. A body, wrapped in filthy apparel, careened into the chamber. There was a shriek of pain as it struck the hard, slick floor. She whimpered again as her body slid before smashing heavily into the rear wall.
There was a chuckle from the pair who’d escorted her.
More light flooded the room as the first of the guards entered. Quiet, high-pitched slipping notes issued from the female’s hands and feet as they slid across the soapy floor as she struggled to position herself in the farthest corner of the room. The guard’s attention remained focused on his prey, though he swung his lantern toward the fireplace. Ryl, motionless in his corner of the room, remained hidden in shadow.
The guard grunted in annoyance as he viewed the fireplace. No buckets awaited their use.
“Worthless. The whole lot of them,” the guard grumbled, turning to his partner. He turned to his right, keeping the line of his vision from where Ryl still hid. “Dornis, go fetch some water for the madam.”
Even as the footsteps of the second receded rapidly, the sound of heavy thumps of footfalls echoed from the floor above.
“Sorry, my dear, I’m afraid your shower’s gonna be cold today.” He laughed awkwardly to himself. His voice was devoid of any shred of compassion. It dripped with lust. “We’ll be sure to keep you warm. ’Tis a pity your flock has vanished. You’ll have to do.”
The woman’s feet squeaked again as she struggled to work herself into a standing position. The burning anger swelled in Ryl’s veins. He readied himself to attack.
The captive was not Kaep. At the moment though, it mattered not. He’d allow none to suffer that basel
ess cruelty if he could prevent it. The alexen churned as their revulsion matched his own.
The guard entered, mumbling unintelligibly to himself. The light from his lantern illuminated his captive. Her hair was disheveled, clumps of stray silver locks hung down, and the rest remained in a messy bun atop her head. Her wizened face was attractive, though twisted by anger and fear.
Ryl resisted the gasp that threatened to announce his presence.
He recognized that face.
Breila. The madam of the Proper’s East.
The snarl curled up his lips as the fire exploded in his veins.
Chapter 28
The guard neared the center of the slickened room. Only a matter of a few meters separated him from Breila, who trembled where she stood. The light from the lantern now flooded the room to the extent of its range.
For the first time the corner where Ryl remained was partially illuminated.
“Let’s get you out of those filthy clothes,” the guard hissed as he approached.
Breila’s eyes went wide in shock as she noted the ghastly apparition lurking behind her captor. The extent of the lewd comment seemed to be lost in her expression.
Ryl placed his index finger to his lips, mouthing hush. Biela’s body tensed.
The guard held the lantern in his left hand, closest to Ryl’s position. It took but a moment for the wind to swell around Ryl’s right arm. A pointed flick of his right wrist sent a focused gust toward the guard’s light. The unprotected flame flickered before extinguishing.
Ryl placed his right foot on the wall, using the support to launch himself forward. Even without the use of additional speed, in the close confines of the room, he reached the guard in an instant. The man would receive no quarter.