by C. J. Aaron
The feeling terrified him.
Ryl inclined his head, opening his mouth to scream in frustration. No sound escaped his lips. Slamming his eyes shut, he curled into a fetal position.
He was empty.
He was alone.
He was afraid.
Chapter 39
If Ryl could have sobbed, he would have. He wrapped his arms around his knees squeezing his body tighter and tighter. In frustration, he slammed his fist down.
The jarring contact with something solid snapped him back to his senses. The left side of his body felt chilled. He opened his fist, running his hand across the smooth surface beneath it.
Ryl opened his eyes slowly pushing himself up to his knees. He was kneeling in a corridor between the vertical fronts of two mountains. His body was in the center of a massive circle paved with perfectly interlocking, smoothed stones. The circular area formed the low point of a wide bowl. Around it, a field of green grass stretched outward, rising gently until it met the vertical walls of stone. In the narrow gap between the mountains, the grass continued upward following the slight rise in the earth, blocking his view beyond the depression in which he kneeled. The still, green grasses created a jagged line as they met the brilliant light blue of the sky.
The mountains on either side were a stark contrast to each other. Each, however, looked and felt familiar, as if he’d known their faces for ages.
To his right, cracked rocks and jagged points dominated the features of the mountain range. His vision followed the range toward the horizon in the distance. The colors of the sky bleached from blue to white. Dark grey clouds stood out against the colorless sky. Overhead, a swirling black sun leached the color from the surrounding area. Few trees and vegetation grew. The ones that did were stunted; their gnarled branches clawed with sharp pointed barbs. Blood red flowers grew on the stunted, darkened shrubs scattered along the base of the range. Around them an endless plain of windswept desolation stretched out to the horizon.
To his left, the mountains were solid, their rolling peaks topped with a healthy green covering of moss and wild grasses. The sky darkened to a deep blue in the distance. Wisps of fluffy white clouds were scattered throughout the sky. A brilliant golden sun shone down on the surrounding landscape. The trees were full of life, their green branches laden with fruit. Rolling fields of green grasses thrived as far as his eyes could see.
Ryl slowly pivoted his body, admiring the conflicting scenery. There was still beauty to be found in the fractured mountains, just as much as it radiated from the healthy land on its opposite. As he completed his rotation, he noted movement from atop the rise between the ranges. The silhouette of a man appeared, gliding its way purposefully down the grassy hill toward his position on the circle of stone.
As the man approached, the details of the figure resolved. His wavy hair, parted to one side, and the crooked smile were a mirror image of what Ryl’s memory recalled. A long grey cloak billowed out behind his as he approached with measured strides. Though his appearance was no longer that of a translucent green apparition, Ryl recognized his identity immediately.
Caprien.
The phrenic stopped a pace away from Ryl, offering a mild bow.
“Hello, Ryl,” Caprien said. His voice was full of energy and life. “It’s great to see you again.”
“Aye, Caprien,” Ryl croaked. “What is this place?”
The ancient phrenic spun around, his arms held out to each side.
“This is a nexus. A sacred meeting place of sorts, yet it has no name, nor does it need one,” Caprien stated bluntly.
“A meeting place?” Ryl stuttered. “A meeting place for whom?”
“For the phrenic, of course,” he said matter-of-factly. “A hub from which all information travels.”
“Is this real?” Ryl quizzed.
Caprien tilted his head slightly, crossing his arms across his chest.
“That is up to you, my friend,” he said. “Whether this place is tangible or merely a figment of your imagination matters not. There are very few reasons for one to come here.”
He paused, and his eyes focused on Ryl’s arms, then his chest. On the tattoo.
The Transference of Power.
“It seems you are here for two of them,” Caprien stated. “A surprise, I must admit, but I digress.”
Caprien folded his hands behind his back, slowly pacing in a circle around Ryl.
“You see, my friend, time has no meaning here,” he explained. “Whether it had been a moon or an eternity, it would feel the same to me.”
Ryl’s eyes followed the phrenic as he circled. Caprien tilted his head back, gazing into the sky above, letting out an audible sigh.
“As meaningless as time may be, in the same regard, I feel drawn by a profound longing,” he admitted. “I am anxious to complete my final task. I yearn to be reunited with my brethren.”
“The transference,” Ryl gasped. “That is your final process, is it not?”
“Aye, my friend,” Caprien beamed. “The process of transference requires two steps. In the world of the living, you were marked. The power that flowed through me, my experiences, my training, my heartbreak, my joys in life, all were transferred to you. The alexen in your blood are the keepers of that knowledge, though some inevitably becomes accessible to you in the process. Others they release from time to time when they see fit.”
Ryl opened his mouth to question, but Caprien continued his explanation.
“Here, the process reaches its conclusion,” he explained, stopping his orbit in front of Ryl once more.
He held out his left hand, palm up for Ryl to see. In its center was an identical circle, like Ryl’s chest; its featureless interior a blur of black. As he extended his hand toward Ryl’s chest, the motion slowed; the designs of the rotating bands resolving into detail.
The skin on his chest heated, a gentle warmth spread throughout his body bringing with it a wave of comfort. He looked from Caprien’s hand to his chest—the bands were slowing their rotation, gradually spinning to a stop. He watched in wonder as they came to a pause, starting from the inside, working their way outward. The random patterns interlocked, forming a cloistered path. A connected path to which there was neither a beginning nor an end.
Ryl glanced up at Caprien’s hand as the last of the rings ceased their rotation. The design etched into his hand was the inverse of what appeared on Ryl’s chest. He knew without question that the designs were a perfect fit.
“This process will be jarring, though not so much as the first,” Caprien stated. “I apologize for that. What needed to be done was done. You needed to see.”
“Wait,” Ryl spouted abruptly. “I have a question first.”
Caprien paused his hand hovered just off Ryl’s chest. There was a magnetism between the designs; he felt the pull growing stronger with every passing breath.
“You mentioned ‘they’ before,” Ryl quizzed. “The alexen. You speak of them as if they are living beings. Are they here with us now?”
“They are living, though not in the same sense that you are alive,” Caprien said cryptically. “The answer to your question, whether they are here now, will be simple, once you learn to understand.”
Ryl was confused by his answer. He opened his mouth to seek clarification, yet Caprien continued.
“Now, I’m afraid my part must come to a close, my friend,” Caprien sighed. “You have an insurmountable power inside you, Ryl, let me aid you in the trials that lay ahead. There will be no barriers preventing you from accessing the entirety of my skills. Do good in all you do. Though we may not meet again, I will always be with you.”
Caprien extended his hand, placing it directly atop the handprint on Ryl's chest. His head tilted back at an unnatural angle, his mouth fell open, and his face distorted as if screaming in agony. No sound escaped his lips.
The incoming flood of information was overwhelming. The sum of his own personal life experience was infinitesimal compared
to the lifetimes of comprehension that flowed into him.
In a flash, he saw the fragmented images of Caprien’s most precious and cherished moments surge through his mind. He saw the visions of the phrenic who’d ceded his powers to Caprien. He watched as the cycle repeated back through the ages. The deluge of images was over in an instant; his mind struggled to stay afloat. He felt as if it were drowning in information, far too much for any mind to decipher and comprehend so rapidly.
Ryl relived the ages of training, the practice and the battles as if they'd just happened. His muscles remembered skills he'd never before practiced in the blink of an eye.
Above all else, the emotions lingered. Ryl felt love, hope, fear, jealousy, hatred, betrayal, compassion, remorse along with a host of others pour through him, saturating every inch of his body. He felt the uncontrollable urge to burst into tears, and the unexplainable urge to break into a fit of laughter.
As the emotions rolled through his body, his legs failed him; he fell to his knees, collapsing hard onto the smoothed stone. The body of Caprien faded from view, leaving only a hint of green vapor in his place. The green mist swirled for a moment before dissolving into the wind.
Caprien was gone.
Again.
Ryl's heart ached with the loss. He surveyed his surroundings once more.
He was alone.
Again.
Chapter 40
Ryl's legs trembled as he forced his body to stand. His simple movements felt foreign as his mind struggled to comprehend the deluge of new information. He attempted a step only to stumble forward, collapsing to the ground once more. Even the act of arresting his fall with his hands was abnormally difficult. He struck the ground with a dizzying force.
How long he lay motionless on the cold stone circle, he was unsure. He dared not move his body for fear that it would refuse to respond. How long would his mind take to catch up to the changes that had occurred in him?
Uncertainty spurred his action. Finally, daring the motion, Ryl worked himself onto his back. His eyes traveled the extent of the blue sky above him. He squeezed them shut, focusing on searching the surrounding area with his mindsight. Still there was no response; the unfamiliar emptiness resounded.
What had caused his alexen to disappear? Why couldn’t he assert even the slightest grain of control over his newfound skills?
Eventually, Ryl pulled himself up into a seated position. He had no concept of how long he had lingered on the stone. The two contrasting suns remained locked in place, as if suspended by unseen ropes in the sky.
The feeling started as no more than a tickle in his senses, but quickly blossomed. He had the profound awareness as if he was being watched. The sensation was remarkably different from that which he’d grown accustomed to within the confines of The Stocks. There, the hateful eyes of the guards bored into him. He had felt smothered by their animosity and unbridled scorn.
The sensation he experienced now contained no animosity. It flowed over him in a wave of welcome, akin to the telltale sensation he experienced when close to other phrenics. Its strength grew exponentially, overpowering his senses, washing his doubts and worries away with a surge of serenity.
There was movement again on the hill from whence Caprien had arrived. One by one, semi-translucent, green apparitions appeared over the crest. Their wavering figures were silhouetted against the horizon. They glided down the grassy decline, single armed cloaks billowing out mildly as they approached.
At first their entrance came as a slow trickle. Their staggered appearances increased steadily, and soon they flowed over the hill in numbers beyond counting. From the opposite peak of the rise behind, their silent advance matched the others as they filled the gentle sloping hills around where he stood with startling speed.
Their approach halted at the border of the circular stone floor. They remained silent as their numbers continued to multiply. Ryl rose to his feet, ignorant of the foreign feeling that came from the use of his legs. He rotated slowly, watching in fascination as they packed into a single, tight group. The bowl he stood in was nearing the verge of overflowing, when the last of the green specters arrived. For a moment, he watched in fascination as they took their places with the others. The apparitions stood like statues, motionless save for the gentle movement of their cloaks.
The silence stretched on as Ryl surveyed the masses that surrounded him. The details of the ghostly figures were strikingly clear; each man and woman wore a similar impassive look across their face. To an individual, all looked familiar, as if he’d known their faces, yet never knew their names.
In unison, the phrenics spoke. Their lips remained locked, sealed in the same expression, yet their voices resonated from within. The sound came from all sides at once. Ryl could hear the distinct voices of the countless thousands that surrounded him. He could make out the slight differences in their inflection, yet they spoke in perfect unison.
Though startling in numbers, the combined voices came as nothing more than a whisper.
“It is time you understand the true power, the knowledge that lives inside of you,” the sound echoed in his ears, reverberating through his body.
The waves of sound highlighted the absence, the supreme loss he felt from the disappearance of the alexen. It was in that instant, that the realization dawned on him. The force of the impact the knowledge imparted caused Ryl to fall backward a step.
The alexen had returned.
They now stood a matter of meters away, gathered in a mass around the edge of the stone circle.
With perfect unison, the impassive looks on their faces morphed into a knowing smile.
“It is time you answer your true calling,” the voices rose in volume, taking on a song-like quality. “There is unbalance among the scales of light and dark. It is time that you take your place among the ranks of phrenic before you.”
“Enlightened.”
“Let our combined knowledge guide you.”
“Empowered.”
“Let our united strength flow through your arms.”
“Enhanced.”
“Let our speed radiate from your veins.”
“Awakened.”
“Let the marks on your skin be a reminder to all.”
As the apparitions finished speaking, Ryl felt the air around him shift, followed by a sensation that made his stomach churn. He felt the stone beneath his feet drop away as his body lifted into the air. Though he only elevated a matter of a few meters the sudden change was alarming. From the group there came a sudden wave of anticipation.
He turned his head to the side, in response, his body spun slowly in the same direction. One at a time, individuals from the gathering of the translucent specters of the phrenic surrounding him rose to meet him.
As the first cleared the heads of those standing beside it, the figure darted forward. The phrenic closed the distance between he and Ryl in a flash. Dropping its shoulder, the apparition barreled into Ryl at full speed. With little warning, he clenched the muscles in his core, flinching as he braced for the impact.
The expected force of the collision between their bodies was absent. Ryl felt a hint of warmth radiate throughout his body, followed by a tingling feeling in his right arm, just above his wrist. His eyes grew wide. At the epicenter of the sensation, a tiny patch of black appeared on his skin.
Following the first, the specters slammed into his body with increasing speed. From all directions they assailed him. Every impact spreading the warmth that brewed within his veins. He could feel the alexen that had been absent increasing piece by piece. He watched with rapt attention as the individual black dots tattooed his body from within.
Beginning at his right wrist, the individual points formed designs that snaked their way up his forearm, passed his elbow, covering it to his shoulder. Ryl rotated his arm watching as the patterns formed before his eyes. It was of little surprise that the foundation of the design was treen in nature. The markings were textured like bark with the l
eafy vines that crisscrossed over his arm. The winding vines were eerily reminiscent of those surrounding the heart of the Erlyn. Even the most minute details of the designs were evident, yet they seemed to move with a blurring speed distorting the image. His eyes could never focus on the same point again, as if the image was in a constant state of flux. The sturdy tree and its vines appeared to be swaying, as if caught in the grasp of a powerful, unseen wind.
Over his right shoulder the final pair of leaves at the pinnacle of the vines deviated from those below. They crossed over each other, one point touching the inside, the other the outside of his shoulder. They were instantly recognizable to Ryl. The leaves radiated waves of heat as they burned with fire.
Ryl admired the beauty of the masterwork on his right arm. His eyes traveled to his opposite arm. He couldn’t help the feeling of alarm as the pinpoints of black continued spreading down his left arm. Ryl scanned the surrounding phrenic apparitions; their numbers had diminished significantly, though thousands remained.
His left arm filled rapidly, as the apparitions continued to flow into him. The familiar warmth grew steadily into a fire within his veins. Ryl watched as those remaining grew fewer and fewer, their impacts grew more sporadic. He counted the last remaining phrenics.
Three.
Two.
One.
The last collided with an unexpected, jarring impact that sent him plummeting to the ground. He struck the circular stone flat on his back with a force that stole the air from his lungs. The golden sun in the distance flared, drowning his vision in white.
Chapter 41
Ryl opened his eyes to a view of the natural rock of the small cavern above his head. The warm air smelled fresh and clean, with only a lingering hint of the pungent smoke remaining. Cautiously, he sat upright, finding his body only a meter from the steady flame in the center of the room. The blood red knife lay on the ground by his side.
His first thoughts were of extreme hunger and devastating thirst. How long had he remained in the nexus? He rose to his feet, surprised to find the clumsy, unnatural feeling of his movements gone. He was again fully clothed, though the touch of his pants and shirt felt exceedingly scratchier and stiffer.