by C. J. Aaron
Across the room, the second door opened to a void in the building. The clearing, far too small to be considered a courtyard, likely served as an additional means of escape, granting relatively easy access to the roof using the intentional ledges from the slightly inset, though sealed-up windowsills. At the present, the area served the purpose of a shower, as the accumulation of water from the storm poured over the edges of the roof above in a steady sheet.
Ryl had hoped that they’d be able to gain a view of the facility during the day, yet the rain persisted, reducing the visibility to only a few dozen meters. Few if any were likely to be on the street throughout the worst of the storm, though discovery in those conditions would raise more suspicion than he desired. The unexpected rest was a welcome proposition. With the coming of the sun, a full day remaining, there would be ample time to reach the facility before the Deliverance the following morning.
With the foul odors of the tunnel cleaned from their garments and their clothes drying, sleep came easier than expected. The constant noises of the rain as it swirled across the roof above was cathartic. Ryl closed his eyes, scanning their surroundings with his mindsight. The view was identical to the last, and the ones before that.
No signatures, light or dark, appeared in his vision. The black smudge along the edge remained steady though it gave no appearance of moving. He had no concept of how far the detection skills of the black-cloaked guards could reach. By and large, their abilities were a mystery. They possessed the lethal speed of the Horde and exuded devastating control over the negative emotions, wielding them with chilling efficiency. It was understood that they could sense the alexen in close proximity, yet no concept of the distance was known.
Ryl expected that with his active alexen, awakened and fully realized, there was no doubt that they would see him coming. At a point, there would be no hiding the approach of the phrenics.
Morning dawned with the lingering trail of the storm. The light of the day was muted as the clouds refused to release the blue skies overhead. Though the rain reverted to a fine mist, it swirled through the air in twisting sheets that cast a veil over the finer details of the city. Cavlin, Millis and Andr had slipped away with the coming light, disappearing into the mist in search of rations. Their dwindling supplies had been reduced to ruin by the flood that had nearly consumed them. The rank water permeated all.
Ryl and the remaining companions passed the hours waiting anxiously for their return as the day attempted to burn off the mist. It wasn’t long before the four walls of the interior safehouse began to claw at his mind. The confined space was devoid of any visual stimulation. The walls seemed to close in on him with every passing breath. The overwhelming power of the stench from the tunnel below had lessened, now flavored by acrid notes of smoke from their small fire, yet it still lingered.
Like the taste of the vile treatments, the equally repulsive remedy, or the rancid odor of the Horde, the memories would remain firmly ingrained in his mind.
Ryl, like the others, found plenty to do to occupy their time. He and the phrenics continued their instruction of the unawakened. Tash and Cray had shown dramatic improvement in their command over their emotions. Though the effects of the fledgling talents were still raw and unfocused, the groundwork was there. With time and practice, their control would grow. With the awakening, their true potential would blossom.
Of the three, Palon showed a startling control over his powers. His emotional control was shockingly tuned for one who had yet to be awakened. Prior to disrupting the tributes, to freeing The Stocks, he had understood the vast differences between himself and Ryl. In the few words Ryl had ever heard him speak, he had acknowledged just that.
How had he progressed with honing his skills with no instruction?
Ryl felt the stab of guilt at his promised secrecy. Da’agryn had made him swear not to divulge the secret. What harm would there have been in speaking to one who rarely spoke?
He shook off the momentary anger that surged through his core. There were enough events from the recent past that he’d change if the power to do so existed. It was a slippery slope dwelling on mistakes that had been made, second-guessing decisions. The journey down that avenue of thought dampened the light of hope that had kept him alive through the darkest cycles. He’d learned from his mistakes, yet the past was the past.
Better to leave it there, as nothing he could do now would affect any of those decisions.
He had done what had to be done. The decisions, right or wrong, had led him to today. To the precipice of a monumental change for the fate of the Kingdom of Damaris. He grinned as he returned his attention to the unawakened, working quietly with the phrenics in the cramped confines of the room. They represented the future.
The prospect of manning the watch was a tempting proposition; at least it was a change from the monotony of the safehouse. The room outside the interior chamber was cavernous. Tall pillars and crossbeams held the weight of the gently sloping ceiling high above. Crates and barrels were stacked in an orderly fashion, forming rows that stretched into the distance. The gaps between them were planned, as if they formed the streets and alleys of a vast lifeless city.
Though the area they inhabited was quiet, they could hear the muted noise of work in the distance. Quiet hammering echoed through the open space of the chamber, disguising the true location of its origin. Occasionally, Ryl could hear a staggered laugh or shout from the workers far off in the storehouse.
The entrance to their chamber was well concealed. The doorway was tucked behind a wall of crates stacked three high and two rows deep. A slender gap a short distance to their right allowed for their easy entrance, yet to a casual observer, the opening would likely be overlooked.
From the gap, Ryl had a clear view along the alleys and avenues in three directions. With his back against the wall that disguised their hideout, there was little fear of surprise, though they maintained a steady vigil. Nothing moved in his field of vision. For what seemed like an eternity, he stared into the motionless void between the crates. The cathartic wash of the rain on the roof had diminished, reduced to nothing more than a staggered patter. Light, though dim and diffused by the rain, had begun to replace the wet, inky blackness of the night, illuminating the narrow slits of windows on the wall high above.
Ryl maintained an obsessive regimen of scanning with his phrenic mindsight. He feared little from an ambush of men. Though there was always a risk, sheer numbers would be their greatest enemy; it was the Lei Guard that gave him the greatest concern. Atop the bridge before Serrate, Elias had been among two groups of the black-cloaked warriors who assaulted them. The dark cloud of fear and hopelessness had been crushing. The weight of attacks of fourteen Lei Guard had been powerful; the miscalculation had nearly ended their journey before it ever reached The Stocks.
Before the palisade, the combined emotional assault from the thousands was devastating. The power had smothered them. Their combined attacks had been crushing. What force would await them in the capital now? They relied on the mender’s information with little confirmation of the facts. Though Ryl could feel the presence of their tainted bodies, he had no way of judging their true numbers.
His stomach churned at the thought of the battle that was likely in their future. Blades would be crossed with the corrupted bodies of those who had been like family. The truth was known by all now. How would the tributes react when the awful prospect was upon them?
They would fight, or they would die.
He clenched his fists together, squeezing them until his knuckles turned white. He choked down the revulsion at the thought of the battles he had waged. With the Lei Guard, there had been no options for remorse. They had demanded the battle at the cost of death. Ryl felt the nauseating weight of those who had died by his hands. He was thankful that their faces had never been revealed, though the possibilities were sickening.
Manning the watch, concealed amongst the crates of the secluded warehouse, Ryl noted the return o
f the trio. Each carried a heavy pack slung over their shoulders. Smiles were written across their faces, though their bodies were again saturated by the constant mist and rain.
“The city remains quiet today,” Andr greeted Ryl as they approached. “There were no signs of guards. Few were brave enough to venture into the streets in the presence of the rain. Now that the mists are breaking, that will likely change rapidly.”
“We should reprovision the packs that are now likely dry,” Cavlin added. “Let’s move now. We’re little more than a half mile from the facility. We saw none on patrol when we passed. It’s like the mender noted, it’s seemingly abandoned. There is another safehouse only a few avenues away. You can see into the walls of the facility from its roof.”
“It’ll give us a place to stage our move to the Deliverance,” Andr chimed in, “regardless of what we find at the facility.”
Ryl couldn’t argue with the logic. He was unsurprised that few would venture out in the pervasive mists. Though he had no desire to plunge into the mist, the move would bring them closer to another important goal. The answer to whether the facility was still operational or not clawed at his mind. If tributes still languished on their cold slabs, he would see them free. If the dreaded facility was barren, he would ensure it would never again produce its vile product.
Never again would the life of an innocent be milked of its alexen, suspended from its wooden slabs.
“We’ll get the others ready,” Cavlin announced as they squeezed past, entering the security of the hidden chamber.
Judging from the speed that the others began filing from the safehouse behind him, there was likely little arguing with the reasoning. A few understandably questioned whether their next venture would bring them under the earth again. Cavlin was quick to note that the water in the tunnels would take a matter of days to recede. Their movements now would be concealed by the mist, the shadows of buildings, not within the depths of the earth.
The party was again separated into groups, following the lead of one of the three who had ventured out into the waterlogged city. Cavlin and his group were the first to leave. Ryl watched as the guard stalked back into the streets between the crates with Paelec, Paasek, Dav and Lenu in tow. At the first intersection, they disappeared into the veritable city of the storeroom.
Millis was the next to abandon the safety of their chamber, leading Nielix, Vox and Ramm. They gave Cavlin’s group ample time to progress before venturing out from the safehouse. The massive phrenic found some difficulty squeezing through the narrow gap between the crates; the opening was not constructed with consideration for his enormous frame.
Ryl repressed the feelings of anxiety as the last of the second party disappeared from view into the warehouse before them. There was little he could do to protect those he couldn’t see. There was likely little to fear, as phrenics accompanied each group. The fabled warriors would be cautious, scanning steadily ahead with their mindsight. It was not the guards he feared. If Lei Guard were to assault them with any great number, the situation could become desperate.
He called on his mindsight again; the image that appeared was starkly different than what he’d found himself accustomed to viewing. The dark stain, gnawing on the periphery to the north, remained steady and unmoving. Now, however, two patches of brilliant, glowing golden orbs moved steadily into the distance.
Ryl turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Andr led the remaining group from their hiding place.
“They’ll be far enough ahead to avoid suspicion,” he noted as he sidled past Ryl, stalking toward the gap. “Stay together. Keep your heads down. The walk isn’t long, and there shouldn’t be too much about. We’ll stick to the shadows of the alleys for most of the route. We only have one main thoroughfare to cross; after that, the building will conceal us again.”
Ryl eyed the unawakened trio who stalked quietly behind the mercenary. A look of resolve was etched into their faces, though excitement mingled with concern as they steeled themselves for the next leg of their trek. Though the surge of water had been an unexpected danger, their progress onward would undoubtedly become far more dangerous.
“Follow me,” Andr ordered as he slipped through the gap between the crates. Ryl moved aside, letting the trio slip past before exiting the concealment of their hideout. The steady hiss of the rain on the roof that had been present over the last day had ceased as the light of the day increased. Hammering notes of construction, far off in the warehouse, continued as the steady work carried on. Whether ignorant to their circumspect movements or complacent, voices, still muffled and unintelligible, echoed through the sprawling warehouse.
A low howl sounded through the warehouse as they stalked through the maze of pathways. Their field of vision was always limited as they moved from one alley to the next. They paused at each intersection of the perpendicular aisles. Their movement through the openings was brief; they passed the gaps nothing more than shadows in the dim light of the vast chamber.
The general tangent of their path led them eastward. Though they snaked north and south at various intersections, they consistently returned to their original course. Ryl checked routinely on the progress of his companions; they had angled south though they too moved steadily to the east.
It wasn’t long before their winding path through the warehouse reached the outer wall. A wide gap divided the last row from the edge of the building though a single stack of crates remained positioned against the wall. The light from the day had grown considerably as they had crossed the cavernous chamber; its diffused rays streamed in through the windows still covered with a layer of moisture from the storm.
After a quick look in both directions, Andr crossed the gap, angling to the opening between the crates one row to their right. Within moments, the others joined him in the shelter of the crates against the outer wall.
“This door exits to an alley that runs round the edge of the warehouse,” he illustrated. “The houses that border this section have no windows that view the building. There’s a gate just to the south; we make for that.”
With a nod of acknowledgment from the others, Andr pried open the door. The hinges were surprisingly silent as the wooden panel swung inward.
Ryl found himself momentarily blinded by the light from the day. A gust of misty air blasted in through the opening, spraying his face with moisture. Between being secreted away in the interior chamber and the darkness from the storm, he had only a rough concept of the hour. He was surprised to see that the sun had nearly reached its zenith. The blazing orb was doing its best to burn off the fraying remnants of the storm, though the clouds and moisture had yet to abandon the air.
He and the phrenics had chosen to forgo their cloaks for the time being, choosing instead to rely on the drab, unbranded colors the soldiers of House Eligar had adopted for their campaign.
The feel of the scratchy fabric on his tattooed arms was maddening, though he understood the necessity. His budding skills of illusion, while his endurance had increased substantially, were still a burden. He would maintain the cover on the necks of the three tributes and himself as they crossed the city. Though their faces were likely unknown, their brands would be universally understood. The alarm would be raised immediately.
His vision resolved quickly as they scurried into the shadows of the concealed alley before them. The stone walkway at their feet was slick; puddles covered most of the slimy surfaces that remained hidden in lingering shadows. The pathway between the warehouse and the low wall that ringed its perimeter was less than two meters wide. Beyond the mild barrier, the nondescript backs of buildings turned a blind eye to the occurrences that happened at their rear.
Ryl scoured his memory, finding that his knowledge of the capital was robust. Even so, he was sure much had changed in the cycles since the phrenics before him had experienced the ever-expanding city. Though their subterranean route had bypassed the barriers, they had transitioned into the second of the three rings of the capital. E
ven in the ill-used industrious section they found themselves in, the quality of the workmanship was noticeable.
The majority of the sprawling habitations and shops outside the city’s gates had been cobbled together without the attention to detail or likely the resources. The buildings that bordered the main avenues, the more public routes for trade, had benefited from their location and stature. They’d likely paid a hefty financial price for the benefit.
The clouded sky still sprayed the occasional incessant wave of mist as they moved hastily from the warehouse. Less than ten meters from the exit, a thin iron gate split the stone wall, leading into a darkened alley between the buildings.
“We’ve lost more time than I’d hoped,” Andr added as they moved toward the shelter of the buildings. “The weather has let up more than expected. We’re bound to run into far more traffic crossing the main avenue than we’d anticipated.”
Without delay, they moved into the shadows of the awaiting alley. With the heavy rain now in the past, the narrow buildings helped to block most of the mist from penetrating to the depths of the shadows where they lurked. Ryl trailed Andr and the tributes as they moved steadily through the cramped passages, careful not to disrupt the piles of filth that had accumulated along the edges.
Though there were thankfully none to encounter in the shadows of the passageways, the din of humanity could be heard, a steadily rising drone in the distance. For once, Ryl found himself regretting the clearing of the weather. The sun would bring more bodies to the streets. More bodies would inevitably lead to more unwanted attention. He scanned ahead with his phrenic mindsight, relieved to note the glowing signatures of the phrenics moving steadily to the east. The black stain to the north seemed to shift uncomfortably, yet there were no signs of approach. The motion itself was disturbing.
Ryl felt the sudden pang of remorse, of doubt.