by C. J. Aaron
Ryl agreed. Although he’d not sensed any additional abnormalities since the previous evening, the Outlands carried a distinct feeling of paranoia that he’d yet to shake. The feeling was disturbingly similar to being inside The Stocks.
The ensuing overview was brief, and the short spear performed admirably. Although nothing like his inherited familiarity with sword form, Ryl again impressed his tutor making remarkable headway. The pair broke from the training to check on their traps, finding them again empty. They collected wood for the fire and refilled their water skins in contemplative silence before retiring to their earthen shelter for the night.
They again spent the night sleeping in shifts while the other maintained a vigilant watch over the silent grove. Ryl yawned, stretching slightly to alleviate the stress that had built in his idle muscles. His watch had proceeded the same as the previous night. Senses on alert, he scanned the moonlit grove for the slightest signs of movement, listening for the smallest hints of noise.
Again, the night was silent. Even the wind seemed hesitant to disturb the uncomfortable stillness that settled in after dark.
Ryl had searched for any sign of disturbance from the night before. He'd grown accustomed to the yellow orange glow of his fellow tributes. His vision was now devoid of any life, any comforting glow. Except for the glimpse of the darkened shape that had appeared the previous night only to disappear as rapidly as it had come, the complete absence of life at night was disorienting in its unfamiliarity.
Ryl jumped as the harrowed squeal of an animal ripped through the silence of the night. The wail ended with a sickening snapping sound.
He felt the gooseflesh cover his arms.
Seeing nothing, he quickly scanned the area looking for any anomalies like the previous night. He felt his heart skip a beat as he tracked a black mass retreating from his vision off to the right. He’d hoped the shadow from the previous night was merely a figment of his overactive imagination.
His heart sank at the realization. What he had seen was real. Somehow the unseen figure that moved noiselessly in the dark was visible to him using his mindsight.
They weren't alone.
Andr was at his side before he could move to wake him, the mercenary’s sword sung quietly as it slid out from inside its sheath.
“Did you see anything?” Andr whispered, his eyes rapidly scanned the darkness for any motion.
The night was clear, the stars and moon illuminated the landscape in soft light, yet the thick shadows beneath the trees were impenetrable.
“I saw nothing. It’s been silent since I took over,” Ryl squeaked back, afraid to raise his voice any louder. “Whatever that was, sounded like it came from over there.”
Ryl pointed off to the right of their sheltered cave.
“In the direction of our traps,” he said as an afterthought, his voice trailing off.
“That sounded like a cry of pain from a wounded animal,” Andr relayed quietly.
“Could we have just caught something?” Ryl asked.
“Possibly,” Andr admitted. “I’ve trapped my fair share of game in my days using traps just like I set here. I’ve never heard a noise like that before. Certainly not the snapping.”
Ryl again withheld the information about the black mass he’d seen retreating using his carefully hidden powers, and the fear of what it meant. There was something out there, that he could see, yet not identify. In his mind, he acknowledged that the time to share at least a portion of his skills was fast approaching.
“Quietly fill in the remains of the fire with the dirt from its hole,” Andr instructed with a whisper.
Ryl silently pushed the dirt back onto the pit, smothering the soft orange glow in darkness. It was only a moment before he’d returned to Andr’s side. They both peered out into the silence of the night.
The pair remained together standing watch as the time crawled by. The world around them had returned to the eerie stillness that had preceded the blood-curdling scream.
“I know it’ll be a tough proposition, but you should get some rest,” Andr said. “I’ll wake you if I hear another sound.”
Ryl opened his mouth to complain, but a yawn involuntarily took the place of where his voice should have been. He nodded his head, silently padding his way to the rear of the small cave, stretching out on the ground. He laid the stone spear on the dirt in front of him before pulling the Leaves out of his pack. The empty remains of his splint tumbled out onto the ground.
He was thankful for the stone spear Andr had made for him, confident that it would serve him well if he needed to defend himself. He was certain now that there was something lurking in the shadows. Whether it was alone and had followed them or if they were two separate creatures, he couldn't be certain. Ryl couldn’t understand why he was able to see it similarly to the way he could identify other tributes. Was it the Horde he was seeing, or something else?
Either way, he wanted the Leaves closer at hand.
Chapter 6
With thoughts of redesigning his splint temporarily distracting him from the agonizing wail, Ryl managed to fall into a fractured sleep. He woke at his usual time before sunrise. Andr who was still steadfast at his post, nodded with a grunt as Ryl approached the entrance. His eyes never left their continuous sweep of the surrounding area.
“Been quiet since you slept,” Andr said in a low voice. “You’re up early.”
“I’ve woken at this hour for over half my life,” Ryl commented. “It will be a tough habit to break. Want me to take over while you rest?”
“Thank you for the offer, but no,” he replied with a smile.
The corner of his eyes rested for a moment on the splint and Leaves in Ryl’s hand.
“What do you intend to do with those?” the mercenary inquired.
Ryl thought about his response for a moment before answering. Andr knew there was more to the Leaves than he was letting on. Thankfully, the mercenary seemed unbothered by the withheld information.
“I’d like to modify this splint to make a pair of bracers of sorts, using these as the supports,” Ryl explained.
Andr turned his head for a moment looking at Ryl then the Leaves and splint. A momentary look of confusion flashed across his face.
“I still don't understand why, but I know those sticks are important to you,” Andr grumbled. “Bracers aren't a bad idea though with all the thorny bushes around here. You handle those sticks well and even blunt objects can save your life in a fight. Hidden ones even more. I’m all for it.”
Though he wasn’t looking for permission, Ryl was relieved that Andr agreed with his plan. He was happy to have earned the acceptance of the seasoned mercenary.
“What do you need from me?” Andr volunteered.
“Nothing right now,” Ryl replied with a smile that had grown larger, spreading across his face. “I can use the stone blade to cut this. It should be a relatively simple adjustment.”
A quiet laugh escaped from the mercenary.
“Mind those words my young friend,” he said sternly. “They can be a curse, and we don't have all day you know. Not much more than an hour before sunup. I want to check on those traps at first light.”
The night was still dark, yet the first hints of color could be seen eking their way into the sky above.
“Good luck,” Andr said, patting him on the back.
Ryl wasted no time diving into the task before him. The edge of the stone blade was razor sharp, slicing through the splint with ease. Once cut in half, the fabric fell short of wrapping completely around his forearms. He chose to leave the exposed skin on the inside of his arms, while the Leaves rested along the underside.
The weapons still fit tightly into their makeshift sheathes. The heel of his thumb served as a natural stopper, preventing the weapons from falling should the fabric stretch. Using the stone blade, he made a series of small holes on both sides of the fabric. Taking the straps of leather that had held his original splint, he fashioned long stri
ps which he fed through the holes he’d created. He wrapped them in a crisscrossing pattern up his arm, tying them together tightly at the top.
Ryl smiled with a sense of accomplishment as he held his arms out examining his work. The process had consumed only a short amount of time, yet he was exceptionally pleased with the result.
The custom bracers fit snugly on his arms with the fabric providing an extra layer of protection from the thorny bushes. However, with the innate toughness of his skin, a byproduct of the newly inherited woodskin, along with the seemingly impervious phrenic cloak that covered his left arm, the benefit was negligible.
The sensations of the Leaves close to his skin as well as having the weapons available at a moment’s notice were the true benefits of the redesigned bracers. The stone spear was an effective and deadly weapon, yet the tried-and-true Leaves were a greater comfort as the pair plodded further into the unknown.
“Mind if I look at your handywork?” Andr inquired.
The sky had lightened dramatically as the sun stretched above the horizon. Ryl moved to Andr’s side allowing the mercenary to make a quick inspection of the bracers. He turned Ryl’s arms over and back again as he catalogued every detail of the simple design. The mercenary smiled, involuntarily nodding his head in approval.
“Well done. A simple design, yet effective,” Andr said with unveiled respect. “The sun’s far enough in the sky. It’s time we go check on the traps. Grab the spear then let's go.”
Ryl quickly retrieved the spear, rejoining Andr as he pulled down their loosely woven branch screen. He focused his mind, searching for any sign of the black shape that had appeared over the last two nights. As he expected, there was no sign of any movement.
“Follow me,” Andr whispered. “Stay quiet.”
Ryl nodded his head as he followed the mercenary from the cave. He squinted his eyes at the drastic change in light as they exited, melting quickly into the copse. The dappled light from the sun through the trees spread across the ground in random, scattered patterns. The air under the canopy was still. Their feet crunched softly as they fell on the leaves strewn across the reddish earth.
The staggered trees left open lines of sight in nearly all directions. No hints of movement or sounds other than their own came from any direction. Ryl could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
As they approached the first of their traps the sickening smell was the first thing to assault their senses. It was an unmistakable scent of death mixed with the putrid odor of decay. The stench threatened the meager contents of Ryl's stomach as he fought back the urge to wretch. He held his spear at the ready, quickly scanning again, finding no trace of the blackness from the night. Andr held one hand over his nose the other wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword.
The scene that met their eyes was a horror. Unidentifiable remains of a small animal were strewn about in a radius of blood, flesh, entrails and bone. The trees were awash with splatters of blood, small chunks of quickly rotting flesh clung to their bark. Bits of fur, flesh and bone were strewn about the area. Whatever had done this was less interested in feeding than tearing the poor creature to pieces.
At the center of the slaughter, mixed in with the remains of their trap, lay the bloodied head of the unfortunate animal, its skull crushed beyond recognition. Brain matter, bones, and bits of fur squished under their feet as they paused viewing in the scene with utter revulsion.
The air was thick with the overpowering odor, the stench far more potent in the midst of the devastation. Ryl squeezed him mouth shut for fear he'd taste it.
“What could have done this?” he choked out the words, fighting back another wave of nausea.
“I hate to admit, I have no idea,” Andr replied quietly. “I’ve never seen this level of wanton destruction before.”
Their heads were on a swivel as they scanned the grove.
“We need to fill up on water and leave here now,” Andr said hurriedly, directing Ryl back toward the small spring. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to skip your lesson for the morning. We need to put distance between us and whatever did this.”
Ryl savored the flavor of the fresh air as they hastened from the scene of the massacre. Andr abruptly grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to a halt. The mercenary hesitated, scanning the surrounding grove before bending down, taking a knee.
His finger pointed toward a patch of clear reddish earth less than a meter in front of him. In the loose soil was what appeared to be the deformed footprint of a man.
The foot itself was longer than his own, the heel was far skinnier and ended in a point. The toes were thin and the large, deep gouges in the earth painted the shocking portrait of long, curved claws.
“Do you recognize the track?” Ryl said, his voice barely a whisper.
“I’ve never seen the like,” Andr gasped. “We need to leave this area, quickly. To the spring, now.”
It was only a matter of agonizing moments before they reached the small spring. Visions of the ruined creature and the footprint played in their heads. They wasted no time, taking turns drinking from the refreshing spring, refilling their water skins as the other stood guard. Ryl focused his mind, scanning the surrounding area, thankfully finding nothing out of the ordinary.
Andr pulled the few remaining vegetables from the soft earth, wiping them off on his pant leg before stuffing them into his pack. The addition of the game from the trap would have been a welcomed change. Ryl's stomach rumbled at the thought of having meat to supplement their paltry ration of carrots.
As hungry as he was, the thought of food in the aftermath of the massacre they'd just witnessed instantly culled his appetite.
Chapter 7
Ryl and Andr fled the small grove with haste. As with the day before they travelled just below the peak of the ridge running to the north. Their pace was sluggish owing to the rugged terrain and the care at which they observed their surroundings.
As always, Andr's eyes were in a constant state of motion, a habit instilled from a career served as a mercenary. Ryl too, scanned the landscape. His eyes lingered on every shadow, watching with morbid anticipation for a nameless abomination to make its presence known. He searched with the mindsight for any sign of the black shapes.
Thankfully, nothing appeared.
For five days the pair travelled under the cloud of foreboding that had settled in after discovering the slaughter. The scattered ridges and outcroppings of rock had increased in size and number and they were fortunate to find caves to shelter in as night descended over the unknown land. The dense patches of thorny brush had grown more infrequent the further north they moved, though the orange and red hues still abounded over everything in the Outlands.
There had been no additional sign of whatever creature had caused the devastation. The nights remained silent and still. They were even rewarded with a hare in one of their hastily constructed traps. Its meat provided a much-anticipated change to their staple of gritty carrots.
As the days wore on, Ryl’s anxiety grew increasingly more troublesome. The fear of the unseen dangers in the night was being overshadowed, supplanted by his worry over the unavoidable approach of the sickness.
They'd now traveled for nearly eight full days—leaving Ryl two days overdue for his treatment. The cleverly disguised poison he and the other tributes were forced to choke down for cycles would soon diminish in concentration to the point where it would fall prey to the alexen in his blood. The battle that would soon rage within his body would manifest itself with debilitating effects.
They were running out of time.
The pair had followed the base of a low ridge heading to the northwest for most of the day. Over the last several days the desire for speed over stealth had pushed them to a greater, more reckless pace. Though they covered more ground during the day, their haste resulted in more frequent stops at the groves that lay scattered across the land. Thankfully, the small plots of trees readily provided water and a consistent supply
of food, albeit the choice of nutrition was annoyingly limited.
Exhaustion was beginning to have ill effects on them both. The Haven Mountains were still far to the north. The frustrating range never appeared to be any closer than it had the day before. The true distance remaining between their position and the peaks was an agonizing mystery. Attempting to shelter in the Outlands for the majority of a moon to weather Ryl's coming sickness would undoubtedly amount to a death sentence.
The thought soured Ryl's mood, momentarily distracting him from his survey of the land that stretched out before them. He lay prone on a large, flat rock an arm’s length away from Andr.
They’d found a small cave a short distance from the peak of the ridge they’d been following. After a short climb to the top, they'd crawled out across the stone to steal a discrete view of the surrounding landscape. The sun was rapidly descending toward the horizon to their left.
Ahead, the mountains loomed tall, dominating the horizon to the north. In all other directions the Outlands continued unbroken.
“We should head toward that second ridge,” Andr commented. “The ground looks flatter and the groves closer.”
Ryl sighed in response, putting his head down on the red rock. The surface was warm having baked all day in the heat of the sun’s light.
“How are you holding up?” Andr asked, his smile growing to cover the hint of worry that flashed across his face.
“I'm fine,” Ryl snapped before he could control his frayed nerves. “I'm sorry. Just really tired. I’d give anything to see a hint of greenery right now.”
“I second that,” Andr agreed. “They can't be too much farther, though. I’ve studied what I could of the few maps that have been made of the Outlands. The Haven Mountains are the only consistent feature in any of them. They run west from The Stocks. We have to run into them sooner or later.”