by C. J. Aaron
Every so often they passed small entrances on their left. The narrow, darkened passageways lead back toward the outer wall and the forest. Though their winding paths hid the direct view of the outside, the hint of fading daylight illuminated their recesses. Shadowed figures moved inside their depths, silhouetted against the dim light from the outside.
“Guards?” Andr asked curiously.
“Aye,” Kaep responded. “The Vigil maintains a permanent watch in and around Vim.”
“Are you and the group that found us the Vigil?” Andr questioned.
“Yes and no,” came her curt reply. “Our responsibilities overlap, but we have different skill sets and primary focus.”
Her explanation stopped short. Andr waited for her to continue as they continued walking upward, the slightly curving staircase seemingly mimicking the contours of the cliffs face. He had hoped for a more in depth explanation, yet was satisfied with every kernel of knowledge he could gleam.
It wasn't long before they caught up with the balance of their party. Andr had lost count of how many steps they’d taken before the staircase flattened out. The path ahead turned abruptly to the right, leading directly into the mountain.
Once around the bend, the pathway widened dramatically, stretching nearly ten meters across. Soaring over his head, the ceiling reached a similar height. Evenly spaced, vertical pillars lined both sides of the walls. Simple lanterns hung from hooks on each one; casting their flickering light across the gaping tunnel. Several hundred meters to the front, a massive wooden gate blocked their passage.
Andr casually resumed his place alongside Ryl as the group made their way toward the gate. Ryl looked shockingly pale; his skin stretched over his bones from the lack of nutrition and strain from their passage across the Outlands.
They were not alone in their use of the passageway. Closer toward the gate several people moved to and fro, seemingly paying them no mind as they approached. Along the side walls, several wooden doors were closed tightly, blocking access to rooms unseen.
Unsurprisingly, the closer they moved toward the gate, the more martial the nature of those who occupied the passageway became. Their clothing was uniform, their dress regimented. Their light, heathered grey tunic and pants matched the colors of the stone walls of the tunnel. The soldiers seemed to blend in with their rock surroundings. All wore some variation of a sword at their hip.
Having served a lifetime in combat, the military hierarchy was plain for Andr to see. He caught the telltale signs of authority and deference in the behavior of the men and women they passed. Peering into the few open doors in the hallway he was rewarded with brief views of what looked to be barracks and mess halls.
The looks in the eyes of those they encountered morphed from recognition to worry at the sight of the unmoving figure on the litter. Their attitudes changed once more, to that of suspicion and fear as their gazes fell on Andr. He was distinctly aware that he was the only one in the group not wearing the matching cloak with single revealed arm covered in elaborate tattoos. Without exception all within his party still wore their hoods up, covering their faces in deep shadow.
Kaep had moved to the front of their group as they reached the edge of the gate. A pair of guards with long pikes stood blocking their passage to the other side. The thick wooden double gates were disturbingly similar in construction to the Pining Gate that separated The Stocks from Cadsae Proper and the free world beyond.
Andr heard none of the brief conversation as Kaep spoke with the soldiers at the entrance. The disparaging looks that were cast in his direction and the occasional pointed finger spoke loudly enough. Outsiders were obviously a rarity here and one handled with a great degree of distrust.
The group held at the gate while the conversation continued. Andr stuck close to Ryl's side, clearly aware of the contingent of armed soldiers quickly massing at their rear. His senses were on alert as Kaep stalked back to his position.
“I'll need your blade,” she commanded.
Andr glared at her momentarily. He opened his mouth to argue, closing it again before the words could pass his lips.
“Understand, strangers are unheard of here,” she whispered. “I'll see to it this gets returned to you.”
Andr nodded his head in acceptance.
Or was it defeat?
Both mentally and physically his body was far beyond the point of exhaustion. Sluggishly he removed his sheathed blade and handed it to the waiting phrenic.
“You have my thanks,” she nodded, as a small smile tugged up on her lips. “Let's get your friend to the mender.”
Handing the sword to Kaep had worked as the sign the guards at the gate had been waiting for. The one to the right hammered out a staccato pattern on the massive door with the butt of his pike. The grating sounds of wood scraping on stone returned the call. The mighty door shook as the right-hand section swung inward.
As the door opened, a great breath of air flowed into the hall, blowing his hair, billowing out the cloaks of his secretive companions. The air was refreshing, having blown off all but a minuscule taste of the smoke from the torches and lanterns that illuminated the interior.
The party, with a contingent of guards in tow, moved as soon as the gate opened wide enough to permit their entrance. Kaep fell behind him as they continued on through the opening. Andr felt the eyes of the soldiers glaring at him with suspicion and scorn as he passed. His eyes were focused straight ahead, watching for action with his peripheral vision.
The gate closed behind them with a resounding thump.
Once through the gate, the tunnel became far more elaborately decorated than the earlier passage. The evenly spaced pillars were adorned with masterful carvings of leaves and vines that wrapped upward to where they met the ceiling. The designs looked so lifelike, he resisted the urge to touch them as his mind struggled for clarity.
He could see the end of the tunnel ahead of him; two massive pillars framed the exit. The day was in the final transition to night, and the silhouettes of sharp mountain peaks in the distance stood out in the fading light. Why did the mountains now seem so far away?
He wouldn’t have long to wait for his answer.
The tunnel stretched on for over a hundred meters from where the gate stood guard to where it ended in another staircase. As the head of his small party descended, the view that met his eyes was astounding. Andr stopped at the top step staring out in wonder at the vision before him. Kaep paused, standing silently at his side.
The wide steps descended into an enormous crater in the mountains. The interior of the yawning expanse was filled with building after building. Light from torches or fires spilled out through open windows, illuminating the sprawling city around them. Avenues lit by tall lanterns crisscrossed their way between the buildings, forming immaculately organized blocks.
To his left, he could make out the outlines of colossal buildings carved directly into the sheer mountainside. In the fading light of the day, he could still clearly see a multitude of people moving about.
The city that spread out before his eyes was massive. How had something like this existed in complete anonymity for so long?
“Not what you were expecting, is it?” Kaep commented, her voice unusually sweet.
Lost for words as he scanned the city below, Andr shook his head in disbelief. Not in his wildest dreams had he expected to find a city hidden deep within the hostile embrace of the Outlands.
The profound wonderment mixed with another, conflicting set of feelings.
Relief.
Trepidation.
He'd delivered Ryl to safety. He'd found the Phrenic. He could finally rest.
Then what?
Chapter 23
For the first time since the clearing, since defending Andr from the horde, Ryl woke to a moment of pain free clarity. His thoughts congealed, focusing with effort into an overwhelming mix of sensations. The most blissfully satisfying of them all was that he was certain he was still alive.
With his mind clear of the pain, dizziness and hallucinations, he focused with his mindsight. The blackened voids he acknowledged as the Outland Horde were absent from his field of vision. He watched a solitary pinpoint of bright yellow light travel from left to right some distance to his front.
A tribute?
A phrenic?
Ryl tried to blink open his eyes. He panicked as the lashes stuck, fused together from disuse and the accumulation of salt from his tears. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, carefully forcing his eyelids apart. Although the light was dim, his eyes blinked involuntarily and water leaked from their corners leaving warm, salty trails down his cheeks.
Between blinks, Ryl viewed the basic outline of the room he had woken in. He was lying in a bed positioned in the corner of two walls. To his left, a single door led from the room, with a small table positioned just out of arm's reach from his bedside. A couch dominated the wall at the foot of his bed; the single large window above its middle provided the only illumination in the room.
The curtains were drawn, although their thick fabric swayed ever so slightly from the mild breeze that ruffled their folds. The daylight snuck into the room through the ever-changing openings between the cloth. His heart raced as he noted his cloak neatly draped over the arm of the couch. His custom bracers and Leaves peeked out from underneath the grey hood.
The confusing sensation of opening his eyes, waking to an unfamiliar location was strangely reminiscent. He had flashbacks of when he’d awoken after Andr had pulled his body from the churning depths of the pool in Tabenville. A sickening sense of nostalgia flooded through his body as he thought of his friends who still languished in The Stocks.
Ryl closed his eyes, focusing again on locating the telltale signature of any with alexen in their blood. Although still some distance away, the yellow, glowing orb was becoming brighter, though he couldn’t tell if it was moving in a path toward his location. He severed his connection as his energy faded rapidly. The effort it took to maintain the mundane skill was exhausting.
Gritting his teeth and using his arms as leverage he forced himself upward into a sitting position. The effort was excruciating, his head swam as a result of the rapid movement and unexpected exertion.
His vision blurred as the room spun violently around him. Ryl squeezed his eyes shut with a groan, collapsing back onto the bed, panting from the effort, at the same time gasping for breath. His thoughts fragmented rapidly, losing focus again. Emotions triggered by scattered memories and faces long since forgotten assaulted him. Painful memories he’d repressed into the deepest corners of his beleaguered mind surged into his view.
Ryl saw himself playing.
He was a carefree child, laughing wild shouts of mirth as he chased his sister in circles round his parents. They laughed along, happiness written across their faces as they reveled in their children's joy.
He saw his friend Elias.
He watched as the closest person to a brother to him winked the instant before being swallowed up by the hungry shadow of the Pining Gate.
The tears flowing from his eyes now were those of heartbreak. He crashed back down into the bed, rolling on his side, curling into a ball, weeping like a child. Pain tore through his body with every wracking sob. The tears pooled on the soft pillow before soaking into the cushioning fabric.
The door to his room burst open, slamming against the wall with a resounding crack of wood against stone.
“I need the mender,” a familiar voice boomed back through the open doorway. The door still shook on its hinges from the violent impact. There was a momentary commotion outside the room, a shuffling of startled feet, followed by the echo of rapidly retreating footsteps.
Ryl knew that voice. His frustration grew as he struggled to gain control of his mind. He fought to choke back the tears, to staunch the flow that still poured down his face. He looked up into the blurred face of the man who now spoke to him in a quiet, comforting tone. As a father would soothe a distraught child.
The recognition dawned on him like the thick curtains of the window being thrown open, revealing the startling light behind them. The memories flooded back into his mind with vivid clarity.
Andr.
The man had given up everything to guide him into the unknown with less than a sliver of hope to succeed. In the end, that delicate sliver, that miniscule shard of hope was all they'd needed to carry on, to push further.
To find shelter.
The tears faded as Ryl regained a greater semblance of control over his body.
“Andr, it's good to see you,” Ryl choked through the tears. His voice weak and raspy from disuse. “Help sit me up. Slowly, please.”
“Take it easy, Ryl,” Andr said quietly. “The mender’s coming.”
Ryl nodded his head slightly, concerned any larger movement would harken the return of another bout of dizziness. The worry written across Andr's face faded into a mild smirk as he helped lift Ryl into a seated position.
“It's good to see you too,” he said, patting Ryl on the shoulder.
The tears had washed his eyes clean. Ryl met the eyes of the mercenary at the side of his bed. He looked more tired than he'd ever seen him. How long were they alone in the wilds of the Outlands?
“Where are we? How long have I been out?” Ryl blurted out the questions before he could stop himself. The relief from the overpowering discomfort was invigorating. Andr chuckled to himself.
“We're safe,” Andr said with a smile. “All will be explained soon. We've had quite the adventure, you and I.”
His voice trailed off and his eyes wandered the room absently at the end of his statement. Ryl could see the pain in his eyes. He understood now the inconsistencies in the attitude of the rugged mercenary. Andr had a patient manner of teaching. On several occasions, Ryl was taken aback with how the mercenary had communicated with him. The tone and caring of his voice were incongruous with the mystique of one who lived and died by the blade. It was more akin to how one would expect a father to speak to a child.
“None of it was your fault, you know,” Ryl said compassionately, the words spilled out before he could stop them.
“What are you talking about?” Andr asked. He cocked his head slightly to the side affording him with a look of confusion.
“Cray,” Ryl said knowingly. “There was nothing you could have done had you been there. In the end, the results would have been even more devastating. For both of you.”
“You heard?” Andr breathed in disbelief, his voice no more than a whisper.
Ryl closed his eyes before giving a small nod of his head.
“Aye, I did,” Ryl admitted. “Cray’s results would have been the same had you been there or not. Your wife would have still pushed to sell him, and you never would have agreed. She’d have sold you out to the hunters to save herself.”
Andr hung his head exhaling a long, slow breath. His shoulders slumped. Ryl had never seen the man so defeated.
“You would have run,” Ryl said. He focused, trying to force the feeling of comfort over his friend. The exertion left him winded.
“You’d have been free for the time being,” Ryl gasped between breaths. “Maybe days or maybe cycles. They would have hunted you relentlessly. Cray would have watched you slaughtered before his eyes.”
He watched Andr’s shoulders rise.
“This is the best that could be hoped for,” Ryl insisted. “You still live. Cray still lives. And as a result, I still live.”
Andr looked up at him. He watched as the confusion and defeat that had marred the
mercenary’s face morph into acceptance.
“And while the blood still flows in my veins, my friend, so too does hope,” Ryl said reverently.
He felt the hints of the familiar calling from inside his veins. The blood heated as it rushed through his body. Ryl sat up straight in his bed; all discomfort in his body melted away to nothing, leaving only perfect clarity. The phrenic mindsight merged with his view of the small room they sat in. He tracked the glow from multiple pinpoints of yellow light as they moved rapidly across his vision. Andr’s eyes widened as they witness the transformation in Ryl.
“You will be reunited with your boy,” Ryl said with a force greater than he intended, his voice echoed through the small room.
“The Stocks will fall. The tributes will be free, we will see to it.”
Chapter 24
The blissful feeling that surged through Ryl was nothing more than a mask. For a moment it disguised the lingering effects of the poison that had crippled him. The feeling faded as quickly as it arrived—opening the floodgates for the discomfort and exhaustion to race through his body. He collapsed backward onto the bed, his body cushioned by the soft mattress.
He was gasping for air, his breaths coming in rapid succession. His lungs burned like he'd been sprinting for miles. His vision blurred as he struggled to focus on Andr’s face. Ryl could hear his friend’s voice, yet he failed to make out any words. The sounds were distorted, garbled, as if he was listening to someone speaking underwater.
The door to the small room had closed after Andr's forcible entry. It burst open again, this time slamming into the wall with enough momentum to gouge out a large chunk of rock.
The startling, sharp report of the door striking the wall snapped Ryl’s body back into focus. His vision returned with a startling clarity; his hearing resolved. He could see the tension in Andr's movement as he whipped his head around toward the sound.
Ryl followed Andr’s gaze. He heard the mercenary exhale a muted breath of relief, carrying with it the tension that had mounted in his shoulders.