A Tribute at the Gates

by C. J. Aaron

  “And may I have the pleasure of knowing your name, my friend?” Da’agryn added.

  “Ryl, sir,” Ryl squeaked in response.

  “Ryl,” Da’agryn repeated, his eyes wandering the walls of the dome, lost in thought as if his mind was dissecting the name. “Ryl, a good strong name, if I might add. Now, Ryl, we’ll have to agree to dispense with the formalities. I’m no more a ‘sir’ than you are the King of Damaris.”

  “Well then, what are you?” Ryl asked.

  “Another fine question,” Da'agryn added. “And yet another complicated answer, I’m afraid.”

  A slight frown crossed the old man's face.

  “I’m a thinker, a messenger, a wanderer, an outcast.” He paused. “And like you, a phrenic.”

  Again, Ryl’s look of confusion earned an immediate, patient explanation.

  “Apologies again, Ryl. You’ll have to forgive this old mind of mine,” Da’agryn pleaded, standing from his position stirring the fire. “I forget the times you live in now are not so amenable to those like us and the names have changed over the cycles.”

  “You’re a tribute, too,” Ryl interrupted excitedly.

  “A tribute?” Da’agryn spat angrily. “A mockery of a title. There’s nothing given freely here.”

  Just as quickly as the anger arose, Da’agryn calmed.

  “In my time, we were known as the phrenic. Respected, not penned in and herded like animals,” he continued. “But, yes, in matters of the blessing within our blood, I am a tribute like you.”

  Ryl was more shocked to hear the alexen in his blood was referred to as a blessing, rather than the statement that the old man shared the same condition as him. The unwelcomed inherited condition had caused so much torment, so much pain, with so little answers.

  “A blessing,” Ryl hissed, his anger rising. “This condition has brought nothing but pain. This condition is a curse.”

  Ryl could feel his heart rate rising. The heat of the fire felt cool in comparison to the boiling blood flowing through his veins. The flames flickered slower appearing to solidify before his eyes. He resisted the urge to reach out and pluck a stray wisp of flame from the air, as if he could have handled it like a stone. Da’agryn flashed him a knowing look with a hint of surprise.

  “Ryl, you must listen to me,” Da’agryn whispered. A calm flowed over Ryl like a wave, followed by intense heat. Ryl hadn’t realized he had taken a step closer to the fire and leaped back, sitting dejectedly down on the cold hard stone seat. He squinted his eyes shut, rubbing the base of his palms in circular motions on his temples. His head was an ocean of questions. As soon as one would take shape, it was swallowed up by a swell of a thousand others.

  “I’ve seen that look in your eyes many times, my friend,” Da’agryn reassured softly, making his way around the fire to sit on the stone next to Ryl’s.

  “I remember that feeling as if it were only last moon,” he continued. “You must do your best to remain calm, focus on slowing your breathing. You must remain in control of your emotions. You’re close to peaking far earlier than expected, and without knowledge and guidance, you pose a danger to yourself, and others.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ryl choked out.

  He was doing his best to hold back the frustrated tears that threatened to escape his eyes.

  “What’s happening to me? Why’s this happening? Who are you?” Ryl blurted out, nearly drowning in questions.

  “I will explain everything I can,” Da’agryn said with a smile. “First, let’s get some food in you. Come with me, we can talk while we walk.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Da’agryn rose and began walking toward the entrance to the tunnel. He paused just before entering, beckoning Ryl along with a wave of his hand. Ryl’s hunger for knowledge and sustenance overpowered any trepidation or fear of following the old man.

  Da’agryn turned as Ryl approached, his easy gait slowly leading them down the shimmering passage.

  “Your people have been led to believe that the alexen in your blood is akin to a curse. You’ve been persecuted unjustly because of the blood that flows within your veins. Of that, you are already profoundly aware,” Da’agryn stated plainly. “The blood that courses through you contains power, to both you and others.” Da’agryn stopped and faced Ryl.

  “May I see your neck,” he asked politely. Instinctively, Ryl turned his head to the left, looking down at the ground.

  “Ah, it is as I thought,” Da’agryn muttered to himself, nodding his head up and down in approval, a broad smile stretching across his face.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the word ‘active’ when used to describe your alexen,” he continued. “Blood like yours has been cataloged only a handful of times throughout the ages. Tell me, Ryl, do you understand what those numbers burned into your neck mean?”

  H1351+. The image of his brand flashed in his mind.

  “It’s the mark of my Harvest cycle,” Ryl said.

  “Yes, that much is true,” Da’agryn acknowledged. “But do you know why it is that cycle?” Ryl shook his head slowly. There was so much he didn’t understand about his blood, his mark and his situation.

  “The alexen inside you is, in essence, a living being. It rapidly reproduces, increasing in number until it reaches its optimal level of saturation, or peak as the phrenic have called it,” Da’agryn explained. “The mender who drew your blood when you were just a boy, tested it, separated it by a process that has remained in essence a mystery. By using a specially concocted set of solutions and reagents, they are able to essentially isolate the alexen from the rest of your blood. They then add a drop of this to a small sample of animal blood, and watch for the reaction. The alexen attacks the blood of the animal like a foreign invader causing a black stain to appear. By carefully timing the length it takes for this reaction to occur, the menders can, in most situations and with a fairly high degree of certainty, I might add, judge the number of cycles it will take a person’s blood to reach its peak. Your Harvest date is always scheduled several cycles in advance. Wouldn’t want the tributes learning that the blood they’ve cursed for cycles is actually a blessing in disguise.”

  As the pair reached the end of the tunnel, Da’agryn stopped, placing his hand on Ryl’s shoulder. The old man looked Ryl in the eye, the corner of his mouth turning up into a mischievous smile.

  “But, they were wrong about you,” Da’agryn said. His words carried a feeling of pride that swelled through Ryl. “Active alexen like yours has never been studied, hasn’t been seen in generations. It’s unpredictable. It adapts. Yours is peaking well ahead of schedule.”

  The information was a shock to Ryl’s system. For half of his life, the thought of his blood had been revolting. It had cost him everything, stolen his family, taken friend after friend, been the harbinger of torture, both physical and mental, and had imprisoned him into a life of slavery.

  “What is the purpose of all of this?” Ryl asked, his voice dripping with spite, swinging his arm in a half-circle in front of his body. “Why go through all the trouble of The Stocks? What power does this blessing contain that is so coveted to justify all of this?”

  “Another good question,” Da’agryn replied. “In truth, there is nothing that justifies all of this. I’m sure you know naught what life a tribute leads after their Harvest?

  Ryl shook his head. Once a tribute left The Stocks, they were never heard from again, yet he had no idea their fate.

  “I will only go so far with the truth here, my friend,” Da’agryn stated cautiously. “However, please do not mistake my lack of information with any attempt to deceive. Knowledge can be both a blessing and a curse depending on the context.”

  He took a deep breath, centering himself before continuing.

  “Your means of labor will change, but your life of servitude will not end with the Harvest,” he said.

  He placed his sympathetic arm on Ryl’s shoulder again, this time giving a gentle squeeze.

  �
�The blood that flows from here,” Da’agryn tapped his finger on Ryl’s chest, directly over his heart, “is a powerful ingredient to a very few with the dark knowledge and the skill. An ingredient that when combined correctly, can extend their life and grant wisdom well beyond normal means. Powers which, I need to mention, can be unlocked in you as well.”

  Ryl turned his head to view the phrenic with rapt attention.

  “As for what other powers your blood holds, I may be of some assistance,” he continued, suddenly upbeat, patting Ryl on the shoulder before removing his hand and resuming his walk into the forest. “You’re long overdue for your first lesson, young Ryl. Come with me.”

  Ryl followed in silence as they made their way a short distance down the forest path. His head swam with thought, simultaneously overflowing with ideas while clogging with questions.

  He thought back to events over the previous moons, picking up small inconsistencies. Most recently with the master, time seemed to freeze for a second. In the forest, his vision and senses had felt more alive. In the cave with Da’agryn, the fire seemed to stop. Each situation was unusually stressful in its own right. His emotion took the lead in each.

  “Are these powers activated during stressful situations, or by anger?” Ryl broke the short silence. Da’agryn turned and smiled.

  “A powerful observation, Ryl,” Da’agryn acknowledged. “In short, to an unawakened one such as yourself, yes that can be true. I saw that look in your eyes when we were by the fire. You may have also experienced a loss of control during these situations, an incredible desire to fight when flight is the logical answer.”

  Ryl nodded his head in agreement.

  “We will talk more on this later,” Da'agryn carried on, ending the current line of questioning. “Were we in my laboratory, your tutelage would be vastly different. However, the knowledge contained there has most likely been lost for the ages, but a lesson is a lesson nonetheless.”

  They came to an intersection in the path. Ryl had entered from the passage that continued on straight ahead. He had been careful to observe his surroundings. How could he have missed such a clearly defined pathway? Da'agryn snorted out a small laugh, while stroking his grey beard with his hand.

  “You were thinking that you couldn't have missed this path on the way in, were you not?” Da'agryn said, more as a statement of fact than a question.

  “This forest you now call the Erlyn Woods has been here for longer than time can remember,” he instructed. “They are in and of themselves one large sentient being. They have their own will and consciousness, feelings and emotions. You can communicate with them quite easily once you understand how.”

  Ryl looked around at the towering trees, creeping vines and underbrush with a newfound wonder.

  “How could the Erlyn Woods communicate?” Ryl asked astonished. “I’ve always felt a profound feeling of unease here. Was that unexplained feeling the woods communicating with me?”

  “Another fine observation,” he said with a smile. “The Erlyn Woods and I have been looking for you for cycles. That feeling was her calling out to you.”

  “How come no one else could hear her as well?” Ryl asked.

  “The Erlyn has always shared a symbiotic relationship with the phrenic,” Da'agryn explained, moving down the smaller fork in the pathway. “The doors to her paths will open for any tribute enlightened enough to understand how to ask. The call you felt was different. She was testing you in the only way she knew how.”

  Ryl did his best to study the path they now traveled on while still concentrating on the conversation at hand. The woods here were less dense, the glowing moss illuminating the surrounding glades of large leaf trees. The ground was virtually free of the dense, thorny underbrush, and appeared to be covered in a soft, thick green moss. The pathway was again neat and clear of all debris.

  “The Erlyn was calling to you in a voice only one with active alexen could hear,” Da’agryn continued. “She tested you in her small clearing in a way that only one nearing their peak could pass before allowing you to come to me.”

  “What would have happened had I not passed her test?” Ryl asked, looking at the surrounding woods cautiously.

  “The Erlyn has ever offered safe haven to the phrenic. I assure you, she meant you no harm,” Da'agryn said with a reassuring smile. “Ah, here we are.”

  The path they had been following ended in a small circular clearing, a blanket of grass covering the floor. Sweet smelling wildflowers dotted its edges, giving the area a pleasant aroma. Looking up, Ryl saw a sliver of the night sky through a small opening in the canopy, the stars twinkling brightly overhead.

  “You've proven yourself worthy in the eyes of the Erlyn. You will find no more locked doors here, her secrets are yours to explore,” Da'agryn said, crossing the small glade. He placed a hand upon the bark of a large tree, bowing his head reverently. The leaves rustled slightly in appreciation.

  “Communicating with the Erlyn is quite simple really,” he continued. “Close your eyes, concentrate on my voice and follow my commands.”

  Ryl did as he was bid. Closing his eyes, plunging his word into darkness.

  “The Erlyn doesn't have eyes with which to see or ears with which to hear like you and I,” Da'agryn lectured. “She communicates through emotions and feelings. You’ll need to be as precise as possible with your commands. Clear your mind of all extraneous thoughts.”

  In the last day, Ryl's world had been turned upside down. He found it difficult to quiet the questions churning within his mind. Sensing his struggle, Da'agryn came to his aid, a feeling of calm rushing over his body.

  “Focus on my voice,” Da’agryn hummed. His voice took on a melodic quality. “Now, slow your breathing.”

  Ryl focused on his breath. Deliberately deep inhales preceded long exhales as the extraneous thoughts quieted in his mind.

  “We need the Erlyn to open the way to the small pond hidden within her midst. Even though you've never seen it before, I need you to picture a pond, ringed by tall trees,” he continued.

  “Imagine its crystal blue, clean water. One side is capped by a white sand beach, the other home to tall grasses that grow from its shallows.”

  He paused, allowing Ryl to focus on those images. “Now, you need to project your desire to be there,” Da'agryn instructed. “The Erlyn will show you the way.”

  Ryl focused his mind on the images described in the scene, his deep, steady breathing keeping the rest of his questioning mind at bay. He could hear the cool waters gently lapping against the shore. He could feel the white sand beneath his toes. He forced the feeling outward, willing the Erlyn to hear him, to answer his call.

  Ryl was sweating when he opened his eyes, chest heaving from the unexpected exertion. He looked around the small glade, noting that everything appeared very much the same as before. With a frown, he turned dejected to face Da’agryn, who was beaming like a proud parent watching his child take its first step, his smile spreading ear to ear.

  “It will get easier with practice,” he said merrily. “She heard you. See for yourself.”

  Da'agryn pointed toward the Erlyn over his shoulder. For a moment, the woods remained static, everything appearing the same as earlier. The Erlyn seemed to flex, as if taking a vast breath, a gust of wind rushed through the glade, catching Ryl off guard. The woods distorted before his eyes, rippling like water.

  Starting from the forest floor, a great ripple spread out following the axis of the ground toward his feet and racing up the face of the trees toward the sky. The trunk of the medium-sized tree twisted like a piece of clothing wrung out to drain the water, its bows separating to form the walls of a new short path. Moonlight sparkled off the water of the pond in the distance.

  “What just happened?” Ryl asked astonished, eyes and mouth agape.

  “The Erlyn’s skills, although they far surpass those any phrenic could hope to attain, are similar to those the majority of us share,” Da'agryn explained. “The po
wer to manipulate emotions and feelings and even, to a certain degree, to create illusions is commonplace among the phrenic.”

  “Will I be able to do that?” Ryl interrupted excitedly, waving his hands toward the woods that had magically shifted to reveal the hidden path.

  “To an extent, yes.” Da’agryn laughed. “That and much more, my friend.”

  Da’agryn began slowly walking toward the glimmering pool in the distance.

  “Think back to when you first met me in the cave,” he said. “When you first found me, you mistook the cloak you see me wearing right now for a rock. Yet, the composition of the cloak never changed.”

  He held out a fold of the billowing cloak for Ryl to feel, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I was able to convince your mind that what you were seeing was stone and not cloth,” Da’agryn confided. “Illusion, let me warn you now, is a very difficult skill to master, a feat few phrenic ever pursued. Even most simple illusions require a great deal of concentration. Were I to have been walking, the illusion most assuredly would have failed to convince all but the most simple of minds. Now that you have seen it once, I’m afraid, there is a very high likelihood that it would not convince you were I to attempt it a second time.”

  “That’s incredible,” Ryl acknowledged. “With their powers over the common citizen, were the phrenic that you speak of the kings and queens, or the ruling class of their society?”

  “Far from it,” Da’agryn protested. “The phrenic have always followed a strict code, sworn to be upheld before our awakening to never hold dominion over our fellow man. We have happily served as educators, philosophers, counselors, negotiators and even activists when needed. Since we’ve met, I’m sure you’ve noticed that some of my statements have elicited stronger emotional reactions from you than you are accustomed to?”

  An out of place wave of mirth swept over Ryl and he stopped, turning to face the man.

  “As you can see, an out of place emotion can elicit just as powerful a reaction if used correctly,” Da’agryn said. “Calm has been used to diffuse anger. Anger has been used to awaken the naive into a justly needed action.”