by C. J. Aaron
“We’ll ride with you to the waystation, then part ways there.” Ryl urged his mount into a slow walk. For a moment he considered using his emotions to wrest control of the other horses, yet held back, hoping that the guard would be able to accomplish the feat without assistance.
“You make for the Erlyn, correct?” Edros queried.
“Aye, that we do,” Ryl replied. “We’re long overdue.”
Without further fanfare, the column began its cautious course to the east. They angled around the edge of the glade; the dense clump of trees was smaller than it had seemed when Ryl had explored it earlier that evening. He urged his mount to the front of the line, leading the troop eastward.
The miles passed quickly. The night had grown still with the passing of the storm; the wet sucking sounds of the hooves in the mud and the splashes as they crossed the scattered pools of water echoed through the night. They moved as cautiously as they could, yet Ryl remained on guard. His senses were in a heightened state of alert. The noise of their travel could likely be heard for miles.
It wasn’t long before the dim lights from the interior of the waystation flickered into view. The sliver of illumination gleamed, then disappeared as they climbed and descended the rolling hills of The Stocks. Ryl steered their mounts into the narrow alley between the crops as they reached the edge of the fields.
The waystation remained as they had left it; their horses grazed undisturbed in the small stable to the south. The pair picked up their heads, angling their ears, eying their approach with cautious eyes. With no threats in sight, Ryl led the column through the field, crossing the main road to the stable.
Though Edros was confident and comfortable with the horses, he left the rest in the stable while Ryl and Paasek retrieved their original mounts.
“Ride well, my friend,” Ryl offered as Edros made to depart. “Please implore Captain Le’Dral to send a patrol to check the groves scattered throughout The Stocks. Though we destroyed the camp we found, I’d be more surprised if there weren’t more who skulk in the shadows. The remains of the guards and civilians here will need tending to. Be wary. Stop for no one until you reach the captain.”
“Aye, Ryl,” the guard acknowledged as he spurred his horse, merging with the smooth main road. It was a moment before he disappeared into the darkness. Only the receding sounds of hooves on the road signaled his retreat.
Ryl and Paasek were quick to depart from the wreckage of the waystation. The grim task at hand would fall to others. His stomach churned at the thought. They had spent the better part of a week attempting to clean the wreckage of Cadsae Proper. The images of the carnage were permanently scarred into his mind.
He shook the thoughts from his head. The air against his face was crisp as their horses picked up speed. Neither of the phrenics had fully dried from the heavy rain, yet the warmth of the cloaks seemed to retain a measure of heat from their bodies, trapping it close to their skin.
To the east, the sky continued its tepid brightening. Morning was yet hours away though a growing gradient of color stretched out along the horizon, slowly pushing at the darkness of the night.
“Let’s push onward to the camp at Stillwater,” Ryl called to the phrenic trotting along at his side. “We can rest for a spell, then carry on to the woods.”
Paasek nodded his approval. He was likely as tired as Ryl. The night had been eventful, and the rest, even brief, would be welcome.
Ryl longed to see his friends. He found that his excitement over the possibilities of their newly discovered powers was intriguing. The uncertainty of young Faya’s message was troubling. Though he trusted her interpretation, the secrecy caused a measure of consternation. Her vision could spell a change in their fortune or grave tidings.
The uncertainty would eat away at him.
With clear skies, the light from the moon and stars above provided ample illumination for easy travel. The road snaked along the gently curving river, passing field after field. Few remained fallow; the majority had been carefully sown. The normally sluggish flow of the river had increased with the storm. Water had risen; in places it encroached on the edge of the roadway.
The horses made good time; it wasn’t long before they exited the main road, angling toward the lakeside settlement. Reflections of the stars and moon above shone clear on the still water that impacted its name on the settlement. The surface was that of a mirror stretching off to the east, sparkling in the night.
With hours remaining before the rise of the sun, all was still in the camp though the memories brought to life a flurry of action. It was here a little over one cycle earlier that they’d been ambushed and poisoned by the assassins sent by Master Delsith. The common house had been razed to the ground. Even in the darkness, Ryl could see that Le’Dral had been true to his word.
The structure was notably more sound than the run-down shack that had previously occupied the same footprint. A flickering, diffused light spilled from the windows that flanked either side of the main doorway. The previous structure, cobbled together and maintained with whatever supplies they could find, had had its fair share of substantial gaps and cracks. The chill from the outside found easy access as light and heat leaked into the world around them.
The pair angled to the guard shack that stood between the common house and the road. With the migration and harvest of the fish still moons away, the settlement was sparsely populated; whatever guards accompanied the civilians would likely share the spacious confines and warmth of the common house.
As he expected, the guard station was vacant. They tied their horses to the hitching post and carefully entered the structure. There was no space for anyone to hide in the single room. Their desire for sleep was great, though they understood their time was limited. Locking the door and barring the windows, it was moments before they were both asleep.
What seemed like little more than a blink of the eye, Ryl was awake. Light streamed in from under the gap in the doorway, its low angle stretching out across the floor. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, resting them on the floor while he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Paasek, alerted by his motion, stirred.
“The hour is still early.” Ryl yawned, though his body felt hale and well rested. His clothes had yet to dry completely; a lingering dampness remained. He longed for the sun to burn away the final moisture that clung as a reminder of the passing storm. “We should reach the Erlyn by early afternoon.”
In both directions the road was deserted. The full sun hung low in the sky to the east. The burning orb had just cleared the top of the eastern palisade, its direct rays rapidly evaporating the chill of the moisture. They gave their eager mounts their head, quickly eating up the miles between them and their destination. The line of green that stretched across the base of the mountains to the north beckoned them onward with all due speed.
Featureless from this distance, more of a silhouette against the backdrop of the mountains, he could feel the eyes of the statue of Taben the Defender watching as they approached.
Signs of activity increased as the day progressed. Groups of men and women worked the fields, turning the soil and sowing the seeds. Though they had labored endlessly, the amount of ground the tributes could work was finite. Stretched as they were, there was a concrete line between what was and wasn’t tenable. A concept even their cruel, heartless masters had seemed to grasp to an extent.
With the influx of newly disposed citizens and the need for increased production, far more land was required. Ryl spied several new constructs, small buildings out in the fields. These tiny camps had arisen out of necessity, allowing the workers easy access to their assigned duties.
Every step forward brought the looming trees of the forest closer.
A few miles south of the orchard, Ryl and Paasek passed the first armed contingent. They gave the mounted soldiers a wide berth until their identities were confirmed. The riders of the cavalry were familiar to them, having been a part of Moyan’s group who had
protected the tributes on their harrowing flight to the woods.
Ryl gave a report of the night’s activity, gladdened to hear that similar occurrences had not taken place at Tabenville. With the lighting of the signal fires the night before, the squad was on heightened alert. Reports from the outlying settlements had yet to be received. After a brief pause, they parted ways.
The anxious energy that had been swelling in him grew as the great boughs of the forest loomed in the distance. The call of the Erlyn was clear; from this distance he felt the definitive pull as she urged him forward. Though her call contained an urgency, the concern was thankfully absent.
The orchard passed to their left as they renewed their approach. Ryl scanned the trees that he had labored and recovered in for moons. It was there that the early grasp of the powers that were hidden in his veins had come to light. The orchard had been his training ground as he sought to find some measure of control over his budding skills.
Ahead, the yawning, shadowed maw of the Erlyn stretched into the sky. Ryl felt the warmth of the alexen grow as they approached. His mindsight snapped into view unbeckoned. The unmistakable signature of a phrenic waited just inside the darkness of the trees. A second, lighter yet potent glow resonated along its side.
They slowed their horses as the distance closed to twenty meters. Though their approach had clearly been noted, Ryl focused, sending a wave of relief toward the gap in the trees. The echoed response of welcome followed within a moment, like the returning echo of a call. A figure broke from the mouth of the forest into the warmth of the midday sun.
With carefree strides, the youngster loped into the open, her arms spread outward as she ran. Ryl grinned, though he failed to match the exuberant smile written across Faya’s face. He reined his horse to a stop, sliding off the mount. Though sightless, Faya approached without hesitation.
From the mouth of the woods, two figures strode into the light. The first hastened after the child. Rolan, his face twisted into an apologetic guise, followed his spirited child. A step behind him, a phrenic, cloaked as always, stopped at the edge of the woods. A long wooden bow was slung over his shoulder. His right arm was covered with a complex arrangement of tattoos.
Ryl dropped to a knee as Faya crashed into his body. The force of her frame, though petite, threatened to topple him to the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly.
“Welcome back, Ryl.” Her voice was joyous; an unfiltered wash of emotion surged from her body. “I saw your approach. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Well, it is you who called me here in the first place if I’m not mistaken,” he responded in jest. Rolan reached his daughter, placing his hands on her shoulders, gently separating her from Ryl.
“I’m sorry, Ryl,” Rolan pleaded. “She has been giddy with excitement today. I only took my eyes off her for a moment.”
Ryl stood, reaching out to shake the father’s hand.
“There’s no need to apologize, my friend,” he offered. “I’ve missed my time here. I’m afraid the world has demanded my attention. I long for a day when there will be a moment to rest.”
Faya’s lips remained curled into a joyous smile though her eyes spoke of different emotions. There was nervousness, doubt and a hint of fear. The path of her sightless eyes shifted from his face, casting a rapid cautious glance at his left side before shifting their focus to his right. They lingered there for a long moment. Ryl cast a furtive glance over his right shoulder, confirming that nothing stood behind him.
“I’d like to know what you see, young Faya. There is likely much to talk about, and there is assuredly much to do. Can you lead us into the woods?” Ryl quizzed.
The apprehension that clouded her expression for a moment faded. Her gaze darted to his left again before she purposefully shifted to his opposite side, latching onto the fingers of his right hand. Ryl twisted his neck, peering over his left shoulder. There was nothing behind him save for row upon row of trees of the orchard. She tugged on his arm, pulling him toward the mouth of the woods. Her father shook his head, flashing Ryl a sympathetic grin as he collected the reins of Ryl’s horse, following a few steps behind.
The phrenic remained where he stood. His body was rigid, though Ryl knew his eyes and senses were on alert. A lone sentinel guarding the arboreal entrance to their bastion of freedom. The only motion from his figure was the gentle flapping of the tail of his cloak in the breeze.
“Welcome, Ryl.” He grinned from under the shadow of his hood as he inclined his head in greeting.
“It’s good to see you, Paelec,” Ryl greeted the archer. “Have there been any disturbances since I left?”
“None,” the stoic warrior responded without hesitation. “Though there is an energy to this forest that I’m sure you’ll find interesting as well.”
Ryl scanned the tree line only a few meters behind the phrenic. The leaves rustled in the presence of the afternoon breeze; branches swung gently back and forth as if waving. The energy this close to the Erlyn was potent. It was unexpected.
Within the call of the woods were the voices and emotions of countless others. Raw and disjointed, they spoke atop one another in an uncoordinated cacophony of sounds and sensations.
“There is a life here that is … unexpected,” Ryl responded as his eyes continued to catalogue the woods. At his side, Faya giggled, tugging his arm as she pulled him toward the darkened opening.
“Come, Ryl.” She laughed. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
Chapter 12
It took but a moment for Ryl’s eyes to adjust to the familiar gloom underneath the shadows of the trees. The road ahead continued along the side of the river until it disappeared into the darkness in the distance. At the extent of his vision, a shadow, angular and man-made, stuck out from the natural lines of the forest.
A group of five guards, all loyal, trusted members of Captain Le’Dral’s force, stood inside the opening of the woods. They nodded in salute as Ryl passed, pulled forward by the exuberant Faya at his side.
“The bridge saves us a good deal of walking,” she added, guessing at the focus of Ryl’s gaze. She increased her pace as they continued deeper into the woods. Paasek and Rolan followed a few steps in their wake.
The wash of emotions swelled as Ryl stepped deeper into the wood’s embrace. The overwhelming warmth and welcome were the most powerful sensations. The Erlyn welcomed him home. The underlying, confusing mix of emotions seemed to swell from every corner of the forest. It was as if they were surrounded by phrenics, each exuding an uncontrolled mix of feelings.
“You’ll grow accustomed to it soon enough,” Faya whispered, pulling his head down to hers.
“Intuitive as always, young Faya,” Ryl added as he jostled the wild hair atop her head.
A little more than one hundred meters beyond the entrance, they encountered the bridge. The structure was hastily constructed, yet sturdy. Little more than a wide series of boards nailed together over the narrow ravine created by the river’s passage. Crude handrails were attached to either side. Ruts in the hard-packed road highlighted the heavy traffic that had recently passed.
The bridge led across a relatively narrow point in the river, the timber extended across the rolling water below to the opposite bank, dead-ending with little less than a meter separating the line of trees from the water. Where the bridge ended, nothing but an impenetrable wall of trees and bramble blocked access further into the depths of the woods.
Faya squeezed his hand tightly as they turned onto the timber bridge. Though she moved without hesitation, he could feel the tension caused by the crossing. Ryl broke the silence as they reached the halfway point over the water.
“Faya, can you lead us back to the clearing?” he inquired, though he anticipated the answer.
Even through the gloom of the forest, her wide eyes were visible. They seemed to glow in the darkness, shimmering with almost a bluish metallic sheen. Her head nodded excitedly.
“Watc
h me,” she exclaimed, releasing her hold on Ryl’s hand.
She strode forward a few steps, planting her feet firmly on the soil of the bank. Her arms fell to her sides, though her petite hands flexed into and out of fists. Ryl could see her breathing increase; her shoulders rose and fell with dramatic frequency and motion.
The woods responded on cue. A ripple started in the tree line before them, spreading rapidly as the foliage twisted. The leaves rustled as the pathway opened. A gentle gust of warm air pushed from the woods, carrying an undisguised feeling of pride.
“See,” Faya exclaimed as she turned back to face Ryl. Her youthful face was beaming, though her breaths came rapid and deep. The motion was far too abrupt, too rapid for her weakened state. Her feet slipped on the earth below her as her balance shifted. She toppled sideways toward the river. Rolan gasped, as he was helpless to assist.
Ryl knew full well the toll her budding skills would exact. He was all too familiar with the exertion and the exhaustion that followed. Though he’d anticipated the result, he tapped into the speed flowing in his veins, darting forward toward the tumbling child. Without pausing, he dipped, scooping her petite frame into his arms. A few paces into the opening, he released his hold on the speed, bracing his body for the impact of time snapping back to normal.
The look of pride on Faya’s face had been wiped away. She had always exuded a level of maturity far beyond her age. He now looked down into the terrified eyes of a child.
“You’ve done well, Faya,” he reassured her, letting a wave of soothing calm wash over her. “I remember that feeling all too well. You must mind your surroundings when attempting to use the skills that are still so new. As with most things, they will take time to master. Trust me, they will get easier by the day.”
“Aye, Ryl.” Her voice cracked as she whispered her response.
Rolan reached their side a moment later. Faya clambered from Ryl’s arms to her father’s waiting embrace. He positioned her on his side, while she buried her head into the crook of his neck.