by C. J. Aaron
The garrison had not survived the blast unscathed. The sturdy panel of the door was caved in, the exposed timbers smoldering from the fire that had ravaged it. Large pocks of shattered stone littered the facade facing the bridge. The Lei Guard still lined the top of the wall, though many were clearly just finding their feet. Several gaps appeared in the once consistent line.
The Horde to either side of the garrison wailed and jostled with agitated fury. To the south they screamed in rage, though they tempted the waters not. To the north, they attempted the river crossing with greater frequency. Several fell short, vanishing into the icy water, yet many more still made landfall.
Ryl knew he couldn’t stay. Even if he could cross, he couldn’t face them all alone. He scanned frantically for any signs of Kaep.
Nothing but a sea of blackened shapes moved in his vision.
Ryl turned from the garrison and fled. He shrugged off the final emotional assault of the Lei Guard as he retreated toward Cadsae Proper.
They must sound the retreat. Whether they knew it yet or not, the city had fallen.
Ryl cringed at the wail that sounded from his left. It was the sound of human life being violently snuffed out.
He was close to Breila’s estate. Had Fay reached it in time to barricade the doors? A chilling realization struck him.
The Horde could sense the alexen in much the same way that he could sense them. With the toxin cleared from his system, Aelin would be a beacon for the demons given free range over the Estates.
Ryl dipped into the speed that coursed through his veins. The wind whistled as it rushed by his face. A new set of screams echoed through the night as he reached the entrance to Breila’s estate. Guards on the balcony fired arrows hopelessly into the night. The darkened shapes darted across the courtyard, slaughtering those who stood in defense.
A lanky harrier reached the second-floor balcony. Ryl saw it crash forward, shattering the glass of a tall window, using the body of a guard as a shield.
The resistance of a man in the courtyard had met a futile end. Slashed and dismembered bodies were strewn about. Smears, splatters and pools of blood painted their tragic artwork on the stone canvas.
Ryl slowed as he reached the light of the courtyard. He scanned the area with his mindsight. The only black shapes in his vision were ahead. The glow of the tribute was clear, yet safe on the opposite side of the house for the moment.
He moved rapidly, but cautiously toward the house. The wagon they’d arrived in had been toppled on its side. Ravaged bodies were spread out in a semicircle before it. Large, deep gouges crisscrossed the top of the wagon that now served as its wall. The opposite side, the carriage’s undercarriage, was riddled with arrows. The horses, though panicked and distressed for the moment, were still tethered to the toppled cart.
The Horde had come here hunting flesh of a different sort.
A muted, agonized wail of a guard sounded from inside the house. There had been no sign of Fay. Breila was absent from the bodies of both her guards and Lord Eligar’s troops.
A second scream from the interior of the house sent a shiver through his spine.
It was a woman’s scream.
There was a sudden burst of energy. It was warm, welcoming. He recognized the sensation in an instant. He recalled the last time he’d experienced it with startling clarity.
Emotions were to be feared. Tempered by the unawakened.
What he felt was a raw outpouring of emotion.
Something had changed in Aelin.
Ryl dipped into the speed, reaching the doors to the mansion in a flash. A search of the area showed that the Horde had nearly reached the glowing signature of the tribute. He hardened the woodskin on the right side of his body. The skin on his shoulder solidified, forming a solid crust.
Dropping his shoulder, he barreled into the door at speed. The force of his assault and the solid woodskin struck like a battering ram. There was little resistance, though the pain that lanced through his arm was definite. The panel exploded inward, leaving a deadly shower of wooden sharps and splinters hanging in the air.
The scene that greeted him was horrific. The polished white stone of the floor was dyed with growing stains of crimson. The bodies of the guards had literally been torn to shreds. Random, indescribable chunks of flesh and entrails stuck to the walls, some draped over the furniture. A solitary foul demon gnawed casually on a corpse, tearing large chunks of flesh. It flashed a pointed look of anger, as Ryl had interrupted its meal.
The stench that met his nostrils was as potent as the devastation. The sickening concoction of the telltale rotted scent of the Horde mixed with the odors of death was becoming alarmingly too familiar. His stomach churned in revolution as he brushed through the cloud of wooden debris floating slowly through the air.
The solitary harrier would have to wait.
Aelin needed him.
The sense of the tribute had expanded since Ryl had felt the outpouring of power from the boy. He darted through the blood-soaked entry chamber, tracking the motion of two Horde as they converged upon the tribute. The scratching of their giant claws and the tearing of wood signaled that Aelin’s position was perilous.
Moving through the chamber, he darted down the first hallway to the right. The wind grew to a gale as it whipped around his right arm. His phrenic cloak billowed out behind him like a cloud. Making an immediate left at the junction, he located his quarry. Perhaps ten meters ahead of him, a pair of harriers took turns raking their jagged claws against a wooden door. Each strike tore off chunks. They paused only to allow the other to slam its body weight into the panel.
Ryl marveled at the strength that it must have taken to withstand the assault.
After all, Aelin had been uncommonly strong from the onset.
There was no time to waste. No rules of engagement to be followed. The Horde were focused on their prey, ignoring the commotion from the entryway.
Ryl unleashed the wind from his right arm. He felt the power flow through him in a steady swirling torrent. Chairs and small tables, carefully adorned with vases and various works of sculpture or art, lined the wide hallway. Priceless paintings and tapestries filled in the blank spaces on the walls.
The storm that raged from his arms shattered the furniture, tearing the artwork from the walls. The wind with its deadly debris ripped into the unprepared Horde. Their lanky bodies were tossed with reckless abandon, chewed to ribbons as the shards of wood, stone and glass blasted past and through them. The disfigured bodies smashed into the staircase with a sickening crunch. It was a moment before the final piece of shrapnel settled to the floor.
Ryl could feel the others approach from his rear even before he saw them, before they announced their presence with a pair of hideous wails. In unison, they charged. The cleared-out hallway was plenty wide to accommodate their side-by-side assault.
Their motions, though unnaturally fast, were sluggish to his. Their wicked claws sparked as they scraped at the polished stone underfoot. Ryl growled as he charged, lighting one of the Leaves in his left hand. He sprinted down the center of the hall. With the moment of impact a mere breath away, he dug his feet in, sliding to the right as he came to a rapid stop. The closest harrier on the right scraped across the floor as its claws struggled to arrest its progress. It lashed out with both hands. Ryl brought the flaming, translucent blade upward, severing both arms of the Horde just above the wrists.
The beast at its side slid wildly past. Its legs churned furiously as it sought to reverse its direction.
The dismembered demon raged in agony. Black blood pumped from the stumps where its hands used to reside. Ryl grabbed it by its left arm, spinning as he torqued the creature around his body. The rapid, well-timed rotation ended the determined recovery of its stumbling companion. The two bodies collided with a shriek and groan. The speed battered both creatures into the wall behind them. The first crushed his companion between it and the wood behind. The panels and substructure cracked yet
held up to the force.
Ryl leapt to the side, ramming the glowing green blade through the head of the first creature. Black, putrid blood and brain matter splattered across the wall as the blade pierced the second demon’s skull as well. Ryl wrenched the glowing blade free, letting his hold of the speed fade.
He walked casually to the side, eagerly avoiding the river of gore that vomited from the dead Horde. Chunks of wood and glass shattered to the floor. Shreds of tapestry and artwork fluttered harmlessly in the air.
“Aelin, you can come out now,” Ryl called as he sheathed the Leaves in the holster behind his back. He rubbed his right shoulder gingerly. It was sore from where he’d rammed the door, though it didn’t appear broken. “We must hurry.”
He scanned the area. There were no signs of the Horde, though he knew more were likely close behind.
The door cracked open tentatively for a moment before swinging inward in a flash. Aelin charged out of the room, barreling into Ryl, wrapping his arms around his waist. Ryl winced as the embrace threatened to knock him off his feet. The squeeze nearly crushed him.
“Please, Aelin, let go,” Ryl groaned. The tribute released, stepping back. Though the look of relief spread across his face, the fear was still potent in his eyes.
“I felt you find your true powers,” Ryl acknowledged as he jostled the young tribute’s shaggy hair. “That release you felt. I can see it in you. You must be careful. Your emotions can be a powerful ally or a vicious fiend. Your strength may be difficult to control. Go easy on the embraces, for your strength can hurt.”
Aelin nodded as Ryl peered into the dark room.
“Where is Breila?” he asked, taking the boy by the hand. “What of Fay?”
“I’m here, Ryl.” Breila’s voice sounded from the darkened room. She walked with a slight limp, cradling her left arm across her abdomen. A trickle of blood ran down the right side of her face, matting a clump of silver hair to her head. “We’ve neither seen nor heard from Fay.”
Ryl felt his stomach lurch with the admission.
Though he hadn’t stopped to inspect the remains in the courtyard or the house, he didn’t believe the young lord was among the devastation. With a scowl he pulled Aelin, ushering the boy hurriedly toward the exit.
He’d be leaving behind another friend. First Kaep, now Fay.
“We need to flee and fast. There are horses in the courtyard. The way is safe. The Horde are gone for the moment.” He pointed Aelin toward the exit before turning to Breila. “Can you walk?”
The aged madam took a shuffled step, wincing in pain as the weight came down on her foot.
“Forgive me,” Ryl muttered as he scooped Breila up, hastening after the youngster. She complained not as they sped from the house.
The night air was refreshing, though the stench of the Horde still lingered. The cool sea breeze replaced the scent of death with the tang of brine, though a potent undertone remained. Breila buried her head into Ryl’s neck as the devastation in the courtyard resolved before her.
To his surprise, Aelin charged ahead, undaunted by the death that surrounded him. The boy rounded the spooked horses, reaching carefully for their leads. Ryl sent a focused wash of calm over the animals. Their agitated stomping and nickering ceased.
He rubbed his hand against the muzzles of the spooked mounts in turn, whispering quietly to the animals. Breila wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck, swinging gingerly onto its back, assisted by his added, gentle push.
Ryl worked quickly, removing the breast collar and harness from the horse before moving to assist Aelin. The mount spooked at the young tribute’s hesitant actions and backed up a step, kicking a back leg into the carriage behind it.
A muffled groan sounded from inside, followed by a thump of something heavy toppling over. Ryl sighed, relieved as he recognized the voice behind the muted curses.
“Fay, it’s Ryl. Can you get out?” Ryl called.
A bloodcurdling howl from the west broke the momentary still of the night.
“We don’t have time. Back away from the ceiling of the wagon.” Ryl barked out the order.
At the sound of shuffling from within, Ryl pulled the Leaves out of their holsters, their burning blades lit square with a wash of green light. He made two slashes, carving a charred X shape into the wood. The edges of the cuts smoldered as the embers eagerly sought to become flames. He let the blades die out while hardening the woodskin on his right fist.
A single swift punch to the center of his marking fractured the wooden panel of the carriage, though it showered the occupant with sparks and debris.
Fay stumbled out from the overturned carriage. He would have toppled forward into the courtyard had Ryl not arrested his fall. He groaned as he rose. His face was pale and withdrawn. The sleeve of his left arm was torn. The tatters and the side of his clothes were drenched in blood. He’d tied a crude bandage around the wound, at least partially staunching the flow. A similar gash across his stomach leaked blood, yet for the moment it would have to wait.
The shrieks in the distance grew excited.
Grew closer.
“I’m glad to see you alive, my friend,” Ryl admitted, helping the young lord onto the horse behind Breila.
“We need to ride. Now.”
Chapter 40
The forest was tense, much like a bowstring wound too tight. It felt ready to snap at any moment. Andr viewed the trees through the gloom and faint glowing blue of the mosses that lit the narrow path they now walked.
Vox and Le’Dral followed in line behind, matching his steady steps.
Andr had reached out to the forest. He’d pleaded with the woods to open a path to the palisade that severed its western border. Though he knew not where the route would lead, he followed willingly.
The air inside the forest was thick, heavy with the stale scent of must. The path that stretched out before them was rough and unmaintained. Unlike the generally spacious, cleanly swept look of the avenues leading to their stronghold, this had the appearance of neglect. How long had it been since any had set foot upon this path?
He winced at the sting as a narrow branch disguised by the dark slapped across his face. They had been travelling a good distance, yet still the pathway lingered onward.
He stormed forward, struggling to maintain his focus as he attempted to force the rampaging thoughts from his head. It had been an eventful afternoon and evening. His heart soared, yet his stomach churned with butterflies at the unexpected timing of the revelation to his son.
Though his emotions had grown unchecked, a nagging feeling that he could not explain toyed with his senses. The joy, the hesitation, the worry, he’d expected. He knew it would take time with Cray. Time they unfortunately might not have. He could handle those concerns. It was the foreign sensation that bothered him.
Though he could see no enemy, he could feel their eyes on him, boring into his very soul like daggers. Though he could see no saviors, he felt their support. He saw their blades defend them from evil.
He was at a loss for the cause of the sensation. It was powerful. He figured it was the woods trying to tell him something. He feared he was too obtuse to understand.
So lost in thought was he that he nearly walked directly into the wall that erupted from the earth in front of them. Andr stopped himself from colliding with the surface as his hands sprang defensively forward. His face stopped a blade’s width from the moss-covered stone.
He exhaled a long, steady breath, resting his head against the cold, damp stone.
After a moment, he stepped back, examining where the Erlyn had chosen to deliver them.
They stood in a narrow gap between the trees and the stone, only a few meters across and perhaps five meters wide. A thin canopy of leaves from the branches above disguised their location from any on the palisade who might have been searching for movement in the forest below.
The three men paused, listening intently for any sound of patrols above.
“I
hear nothing. Can see nothing. Why would the woods lead us here?” Le’Dral grumbled.
Andr was at a loss as well. He scratched his head as he peered into the gloom around the modest opening. With his hand against the wall, he paced to the far side of the clearing to the south. The woods here seemed darker, more foreboding than near the entrance. Andr quickly retraced his steps, passing Vox and Le’Dral, who watched curiously.
The woods along the opposite side of the opening were still dense. Thick brambles and vines choked off access into the depths, yet a single tree, set just inside the tree line, remained free from the clutter.
Andr felt the unnatural tug on his body. It was an unnerving sensation, yet one he’d grown strangely accustomed to. He gave in to the pull, letting himself be drawn forward.
The sensation evaporated as he reached the base of the solitary tree. The trunk was several meters wide, yet it was far from a giant in terms of the trees of the Erlyn Woods. Andr reached forward tentatively, hesitant of the reaction the connection could bring.
There was no sudden realization. No jolt of energy or information. Only a soft rustle of leaves above broke the silence.
Andr peered upward, his eyes focusing immediately on the small patch of glowing moss around the base of the tree. A few steps brought him to the rear of the trunk. There, illuminated by the faint glow of the moss, was a ladder of sorts.
The rungs were formed by a thick cord of vine that snaked its way up the tree. The ladder continued some fifteen meters upward until the branches took over, serving as footholds to ascend the trunk. He’d started climbing before calling to his companions.
“Follow me,” he whispered. “We’ll get our view from up here.”
Vox and Le’Dral voiced no complaint as they followed the mercenary up the arboreal ladder. Even in the dark, the soft glow of the scattered moss lit the pathway, allowing for an easy ascent.
Fifteen meters above, the vine ended as the branches took over. The thick, yet stubby limbs grew out from the tree, leading them in a path that wound slowly around the right of the trunk. As they climbed, patches of moonlight and stars became increasingly visible through the trees.