by C. J. Aaron
"As long as there is life that still flows through my being, through the very woods themselves, assistance will always be given," he replied. "I fear that your succor came at a great expense of energy. Though her reserves are not close to dry, she is weary, as you no doubt can sense. I am weary."
His gaze moved up and down Ryl's arm as his hands stroked his long grey beard. The grin on his face widened.
"As for your arm. I am as surprised as you. I’ve never seen the like," he admitted. "The alexen have had long to ponder. The ghosts of the past have had ages to conceive their wonders. Rest assured you'll understand it fully when the time is right."
"It is the answer I expected," Ryl acknowledged, nodding his head and forcing a smile before quickly changing the subject.
"The assistance you gave was paramount," he offered. "Though it was a ruse that will not likely succeed again, it bought us the time that we needed."
The smile on Da'agryn's face brightened for a moment before his expression turned serious.
"Time," he whispered. "Time is not a luxury you have. They'll come again in numbers you cannot withstand."
"We are prepared to fight," Andr interrupted with an uncommon force to his voice.
The eyes of Da'agryn pivoted to the mercenary. They were calm and probing, studying him with supreme curiosity, not scorn.
"I've seen the phrenics, felt their coming. Theirs are signatures I know well," Da'agryn noted. "You are a mystery to me. Though the woods whisper of your deeds."
Andr regarded the elder phrenic with a look of confusion.
"Tell me friend, why have you aided the phrenics? Why have you thrown your lot in with those the majority of your kind curse for their tainted blood?"
Ryl watched as the muscles on Andr's face clenched ever so slightly as the mercenary struggled to restrain his anger. He knew his friend bristled with rage at the insinuation.
"My motives are just," Andr hissed at Da'agryn. "I fight for Ryl. I fight for the phrenics of Vim and the Vigil. I fight for the tributes."
The mercenary paused as he glared into the eyes of the elder phrenic.
"I fight for my son," he said.
A mischievous smile spread across Da'agryn's face.
"Ah, the son. Therein lays the connection," the elder phrenic spoke. "Your motives were never under question, my friend. The woods would have never trusted you with Ryl's care had they been so."
Da'agryn stood slowly, his posture more hunched than Ryl had remembered. As he rose to his feet, it became apparent that the light that seemed to flicker across his body was in actuality the light dancing off the walls behind him. There was a slight transparency to his figure, as if his image had yet to completely form. He moved sluggishly, rounding the small fire.
"How is it that you're here?" Kaep interrupted the moment of silence. "What happened at the Prophet's Tree?"
"The tree is lost to us," Da'agryn stopped as reached the opposite side of the fire. It was a pained look that spread across his wizened face. "Outside the Palisades walls, there are a precious few areas left where the woods still cling to any of their elder power."
He waved his hands at the stone benches, ushering Ryl and his companions to sit.
"The loss of the tree will be mourned," he continued. "I could feel their coming. I could sense the blackness creeping through the woods. So few are the remaining pockets of energy, the journey from here in the heart of the woods to the tree is tiresome. It takes many moons before I can communicate with any true clarity. I am sorry, there was little I could do to warn you earlier."
His admission was sincere. Ryl could feel the raw emotion pouring from him with the statement. Not forced outward as an extension of his innate abilities but coursing from his very soul.
"In the times past, before the building of the Palisades, traveling the length of the woods would have been accomplished with ease, providing that the Erlyn permitted your travel," Da'agryn lamented as his gaze absently travelled the room.
"The journey now is as perilous as it is exhausting," he admitted. "The remaining pockets of energy, of life, that remain through the fractured woods outside are barely enough to sustain my form along the trip. The tree was of the last vestiges of power where my form could once again take shape. I had no option but to return here, to the Erlyn's heart. My recovery has been lengthy. Only recently have I regained true control over a portion of my abilities. I will need to rest before I can truly aid you again."
He paced slowly behind the flickering light of the blaze.
"You have been our constant, you've guided Vim through the ages," Kaep interjected. The hurt and doubt in her voice rang through her steeled words.
"And my message has been received," Da'agryn smiled. "The time for prophecy has passed. The catalyst is present. The future is for you to decide."
Ryl felt the uncomfortable weight, the weight of unplanned destiny, fall on his shoulders. He struggled to maintain his posture, slumping under the crushing pressure.
Without waiting for a response, Da'agryn continued.
"The evil that descended on that tree was alike nothing I'd ever experienced. The Horde were not alone. There was something else there with them, something I cannot explain.”
"The cloaked figure," Ryl gasped as he rubbed his hands against his temples.
With all that had happened over the last moon, with all that he'd learned about himself, with his understanding of the relationship between the alexen and its counter—the connection was now crystal clear.
All eyes in the room turned to Ryl.
"I should have recognized the connection earlier. The correlation is obvious," Ryl announced. "That figure, with the last of the Horde to leave the tree. That was a Lei Guard."
There was an audible gasp from Andr at his side.
"How is that possible?" The mercenary asked. "The Lei Guard's we've seen were human. Why did the Horde not tear them to pieces?"
"If the Horde can sense each other, much like the phrenics can using their mindsight, perhaps the infusion of nexela into their blood makes them think the humans are one of them," Ryl pondered aloud. "It disguises their true identity."
On the opposite side of the fire, the storm in Da'agryn's eyes began to churn.
Ryl inhaled deeply, steadying himself before delivering the information.
"The black guard that bear Leiroth’s name are more than just men augmented with the powers of the Horde," Ryl added. "The inject the vile nexela into the husks of the tributes after every last drop of alexen has been milked from their veins."
Da'agryn’s stare hammered into Ryl. The fire between them slowed, its flames seemingly freezing in air.
"Leiroth," Da'agryn breathed. His raspy voice was a whisper, yet echoed throughout the hollow chamber. "One sin was not enough."
The elder phrenic reached his feet with a fluid grace that belied his weakened state. His cloak and features solidified as he stood tall. The withered frame that had moments before ambled across the cavern floor rose to its full height. He seemed to swell in proportion to those gathered in the room. Da'agryn now towered over those gathered.
Starting with his feet, his cloak began flickering at the hands of an unseen wind. Da'agryn's chest rose as he inhaled a deep breath; the walls of the chamber flexed inward as he pulled the air into his lungs. They pushed outward as he let the air slowly escape through his lips.
Ryl could see the raw fury churning within the depths of his eyes. All trace of a smile had faded. In its place was a concrete look of chilling anger.
As if on cue, a feeling blossomed over the cavern, pushed from the woods without. A serene calm washed over all within the cave. Ryl breathed a sigh of relief he'd not realized he'd been holding.
The sensation sapped the fight from Da'agryn; his body withered before their eyes. His frame became opaquer and more hunched as he reverted to a state of calm. The smoldering blaze resumed its low, steady burn. The quiet crackling of the flames of the fire filled the room.
> Accompanying the pacifying feeling came a second emotion that pulled on his senses. Ryl turned his head; he could see the confusion in the eyes of his companions. Andr seemed at a loss, and he shuffled a step backward toward the door. A look of shock was written across his face, as if his movements were involuntary and beyond his control.
It was Da'agryn who spoke first.
"If what you say is true and the corrupted shells of the phrenics walk among the Horde; if the demons answer to the Lei Guard, then you have far more to fear than the race of man," the elder phrenic breathed.
His head dipped for a moment, his eyes seemingly scanning the floor at his feet.
"This changes the course of events. It likely explains the timing of your coming," Da'agryn continued. "The significance of the markings on your left arm as well are likely tied to this fate."
The call from the forest was repeated, the urge more powerful than the first. Da'agryn nodded his head subtly, mumbling inaudibly to himself. When his head rose up, he looked squarely at Kaep and Andr. A wry smile tugged up on the corners of his weary lips.
"The Erlyn beckons," the elder phrenic whispered. His voice was soft and airy. It was felt more internally than heard with the ears.
"We must make haste. She has assistance to provide and time runs short."
Chapter 39
The trio followed Da'agryn out of the chamber and through the tunnel hewn through the shimmering rock. The flickering light of the dying fire faded as they exited to a dimly lit path, different from the one they'd entered through earlier that day.
The poorly lit avenue was dotted by small patches of light given off by glowing blue mosses that clung to the trees along its sides. The floor was clear of debris, though thin clouds of mist drifted along the edges. Ahead, a clearing appeared, washed with the light from the late afternoon sun.
Kaep and Andr's eyes went wide at the sight of the altered pathway before them. Their looks of wonder, however, were tinged with an air of resignation. They'd grown strangely accustomed to the miracles that had presented themselves thus far.
The form of Da'agryn in the lead seemed to meld with the ground at his feet. It was as if his motion was a wave that passed along the forest floor. With every fluid step his figure became increasingly more wraithlike. His image took on the translucent quality of Caprien and the phrenics that had appeared during Ryl’s awakening.
The alexen.
The pathway ended abruptly in a clearing. It took Ryl but a moment to recognize where the avenue had brought them. It was a location that was forever etched into his mind.
It was the heart of the Erlyn.
The small glade was carpeted in a blanket of lush green grass, ringed by a wall of trees and bramble. The area pulsed with life. He felt the palpable thrum of the heartbeat of the forest. Unlike his first visit, he was keenly aware of the blemishes that marred the tips of the slender blades of grass. The gaps in the underwood felt far more open than he'd remembered, giving the distinct impression that he was staring into the very soul of the forest.
Adjacent from the exit of the path, a massive tree stood, its expansive trunk wrapped in thick vines. Ryl and his companions paused while Da'agryn continued to the edge of the tree.
Ryl had only seen this area of the woods on a single occasion. A momentous event in which the Erlyn gifted him the woodskin as well as the connection and the power to control the woods themselves. He felt the beating of the pulse of the forest thump under his feet. The sensation was amplified far beyond that which he'd recalled. Still, he could sense the weariness of the ancient woods.
Da'agryn turned back toward Ryl and the party, breaking the momentary silence as all took in the sight at hand.
"There is little time left for words," Da'agryn's voice carried around the small clearing on a light rush of air that circled the expanse. "There is little assistance that we can provide over the coming days. The weight of defense will rest not only on the backs of the phrenics. Those with and without the gift of alexen will have their roles to play."
His ethereal arm extended outward, the tattoos on his skin a blur of motion. His hand pointed directly toward Andr.
"Come forward," he beckoned in a voice that was compassionate yet broached no retort. "You are to be given a boon the likes of which has never before been granted. Not in all of history has the Erlyn chosen to connect with one not of phrenic descent."
Andr stepped forward, though there was a look of confusion written across his face.
"I am honored by the gift," the mercenary replied with a small nod of supplication. "What is the boon I am to receive?"
"That is for the woods to decide," Da'agryn answered.
The elder phrenic motioned for Andr to follow as he led him to the side of the massive tree. Ryl couldn't help but flinch as he watched Da'agryn lead his friend toward the small gap between the winding vines. Though it appeared to be nothing more than a darkened shadow from where he stood, a glimmer of light flickered from its interior as the beams of sunlight from above reflected off the viscous liquid inside. The tip of the lone thorn on the edge of the vine that lined the base of the opening stood as a painful reminder of what was to befall his friend.
Andr hesitated as he reached his hand toward the opening in the tree. His fist hovered over the spike as he craned his neck, turning his head, meeting eyes with Ryl. Ryl smiled at his friend, sending a wave of calm to still Andr's fraying nerves.
With a quick flash of a grin, nothing more than a rapid tugging up on the corner of his lips, Andr turned his head back to the tree with a shrug of his shoulders. His hand slammed down on the spike with enough force to draw blood before he thrust his finger into the liquid of the tree’s interior.
Ryl guessed that his reaction was likely to have been similar. He watched as Andr stepped back, shaking his hand as the gelatinous liquid forced its way into the pinprick in his finger. The wound splayed outward; his hands swelled with the addition of the substance. Ryl could see the bone of his index finger as the liquid forced its way inside.
As it moved up his arm, Andr turned his head back toward Ryl. The mercenary’s face—which normally exuded an air of confidence—was morphed into a look of utter panic. He opened his mouth to scream. No sound escaped his lips. All Ryl could do to help his friend was push a wave of calm and comfort over his addled body.
The process from that point was rapid. What had seemed like an eternity when he had gone through the process himself was over in a few short moments. Ryl understood all too well the brutal, intense pain that his friend had just been subjected to. He watched with wonder as the mercenary's skin took on a crusty, bark-like appearance before fading back into his normal tanned flesh.
As the last of his skin returned to normal, the agony that held his body in place released its hold. The mercenary toppled to the ground with a soundless thump.
Ryl was at his side in an instant; their eyes met as Andr blinked away the tears.
"What’s happened to me?" Andr's voice was raspy as if he hadn't uttered a sound in cycles.
"The woodskin," Ryl responded as his eyes traveled toward Da'agryn standing a few steps away. The elder phrenic simply nodded his head in affirmation.
"There is more to it than that, it seems," Da'agryn continued. His mouth no longer moved, though the words rang clear in their ears. "He will need to understand the way, though the woods have granted him access to the pathways throughout her domain."
Da'agryn knelt beside Andr and Ryl, lowering a single knee to the soft bed of grass that covered the clearing. His form seemed to merge with the grasses, and a stronger tint of vibrant green crept its way up his leg.
"Never before have the woods answered to the call of man," he whispered. "Man must come to realize that which they don't understand is not evil. Not infallibly wrong."
Andr still wobbled slightly as he intently studied Da'agryn. His head nodded slightly in response.
Without another word, the elder phrenic stood slowly, moving to th
e right side of the great tree. He placed his hand on the bark of the massive trunk, closing his eyes. After a moment, he too nodded his head, though his body faded slightly with the motion. Through his wispy figure, the broad leaves of the trees and the sharp points of the bramble behind him were now nearly in focus.
This time his gaze fell on Kaep.
"The Erlyn will not leave you without a share of its bounty, my young phrenic," he announced.
As the words rang through the area, the arboreal wall that formed the border of clearing along the opposite side of the great tree began to swirl with motion. With a quiet rustling of leaves, the branches and brambles bent and twisted as they morphed into a sheet of vertical hanging vines. The thin tendrils sprouted slender, overlapping, oval shaped leaves. The foliage filled the gaps in the narrow opening forming a curtain. The appearance of the living doorway was eerily reminiscent of the leaves of the great willow. The Prophet’s Tree.
Da'agryn’s right hand remained firmly against the trunk of the tree while he motioned Kaep forward with his left. As he did, his body shifted slightly, seemingly moving into the gigantic tree that formed the heart of the Erlyn.
"This is a gift, for you and you alone," he whispered to Kaep. "Time is short. Fear not, though our assistance may be limited, the Erlyn will not abandon you. I will not abandon you."
As his final word spun through the clearing on the final tendril of breeze, his body disappeared into the tree.
Andr was the first to move. The first to break his eyes from the scene. With little help, he took his place standing between Ryl and Kaep. His right arm was draped casually over Ryl's shoulder for support.
The three met eyes momentarily. Kaep blinked, holding hers shut for a moment longer than normal.
Only a moment.
With a deep breath, she turned her head to the wall of leaves. Without hesitation she strode forward through the emerald curtain.
The branches swung gently from side to side as she passed, before sealing the gap behind her.