by C. J. Aaron
As the last of the blessed relief washed over his body, Ryl opened his eyes. His vision blurred, blackness took him as he collapsed to the ground.
16
Ryl opened his eyes to a view of the canopy high above. It must have been nearing midday as the beams of light that snuck through the dense foliage angled nearly straight down toward the ground. Da'agryn’s head popped into view. The old man was kneeling over him, corners of his mouth turned into a wide smile.
“Welcome back, Ryl,” he said compassionately. “Take it easy now. Let me help you up.”
Ryl took his proffered arm, more as a courtesy than anything else, rising quickly from the ground. He brushed the dirt and grass off his tattered clothing, his hand lingering when it came in contact with his skin.
It was cooler and rougher to the touch than normal.
“What's happened to me?” Ryl asked.
Da'agryn rubbed his hands over his wiry beard, studying Ryl.
“The Erlyn has bestowed upon you two invaluable gifts,” Da'agryn said. “The most obvious is your skin. Quite fascinating to watch I might add. It’s what's called the woodskin.”
Ryl looked down at his hands and arms. Aside from the white x-shaped scar that had already formed from where the sap entered his body, they looked the same as they had earlier in the morning.
“You’ll notice your skin might be a bit rougher to the touch, and cooler than you are accustomed to,” Da'agryn continued. “The woodskin has been infused into your body and acts more or less like bark does for a tree.”
He knocked on the side of the great tree for effect.
“Your skin luckily retains its same complexion and the majority of its natural texture,” he instructed. “You’ll find that your new skin will be more difficult to cut, and will diffuse the impact of most blunt objects. I must caution you, however, that this will not make you immune to injury. Blades will still cut you and other blows will still do damage, just significantly less.”
Ryl’s gaze traveled back to his hands. He held them out in front of his face, rotating them front and back.
“Will my skin always be like this,” Ryl asked, “or is it a skill that needs to be controlled?”
“Very good question.” Da'agryn nodded his head in approval. “This one trait of the woodskin is boundless, although a thicker bark can be called upon to better protect isolated areas. This same principle can be applied in self-defense or offense. Learning to bolster a punch at the moment of impact can yield dramatic results. As with your other skills, your control and effectiveness will grow with practice as your saturation nears its peak.”
“The Erlyn has chosen to give you a second boon Ryl, one which is not to be taken lightly. In fact, I've never heard of its passing,” Da'agryn spoke in awe. “To a limited degree, she has provided you control over all of her domain.”
“How do you know so much about these skills?” Ryl asked, more suspiciously than he had intended. If Da'agryn noticed, he paid it no mind. “What do you mean control over her domain?”
“The woods, Ryl.” Da’agryn motioned with a great sweeping of his hand. “You now hold a small piece of control over the entirety of the forest. All phrenics who know how to communicate with her can open her paths. You and you alone will learn to control the trees.”
Da’agryn looked away for a moment. “The answer to your first question is much more complicated, I’m afraid,” he sighed.
Da'agryn crossed to the great tree, placing his hands on its course bark, bowing his head reverently as if in silent conversation.
“I, like you Ryl, are tied to the Erlyn,” Da'agryn admitted hesitantly. Ryl could feel the apprehension in his voice.
“The Erlyn provided the gifts to you voluntarily of its own will,” Da’agryn breathed. “My bond to the woods is unlike yours. Forged at time of our mutual need, ours is more a symbiotic relationship.”
Ryl regarded him with a confused look. Da’agryn stepped away from the tree and began walking across the clearing toward the cave.
“I’m afraid that is a tale for another day. Time is not a luxury we now possess,” he admitted abruptly, tone indicating the matter to be closed. “Come, we have more to discuss.”
Ryl followed just off his shoulder as they walked back into the rock hallway, the small fire still burning as it had before. Da'agryn motioned for Ryl to sit at one of the stones surrounding the fire, taking up station at an adjacent one.
“Ryl, I will be leaving you shortly,” Da'agryn announced, not wasting effort to soften the blow. “I have tasks I must attend to elsewhere.”
Ryl shot to his feet, frustration lighting his veins ablaze. The fire slowed in response.
“If you can come and go at will, why can't you take us, save the rest of us?” Ryl shouted. The crackling of the fire ceased, flames suspended in air.
Before Ryl could react, Da'agryn sprung to his feet, throwing his cloak off his tattooed shoulder with a lightning fast sweeping motion of his right arm. He crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. A focused blast of wind accompanied him, slamming into Ryl’s chest, driving him backwards. His legs were thrown out from under him as he tripped over the stone seat. Before his body could connect with the ground, Da'agryn was there, catching him with both forearms under his armpits, easing him gently to the ground. A wave of calm crashed over him. The fire resumed its quiet crackling.
“That was a warning. Should you ever accuse me of complacency again, I will not be so gentle,” Da'agryn hissed, the fire raging in his eyes. Almost immediately, his look softened and he released Ryl, standing to readjust his cloak.
“I have been forced to watch tributes come and go for more cycles than I can count,” Da’agryn whispered. “Outside the boundaries of these woods, I am powerless in all but spoken word and conveyed emotion. One day, you will learn the full truth, but I am reminded that now is not the time.”
Da'agryn crossed to the front of Ryl, offering a hand to help him up.
“Do not let your emotions be that which gives you away,” Da'agryn said, helping Ryl up from off his back. “Learning to control your emotions is a critical step in your awakening process.”
“How am I to awaken if there is no escape, if I'm destined to be harvested two cycles from now anyway?” Ryl growled, not attempting to diffuse the angst in his voice.
“Your path from The Stocks is your Harvest,” he said. “Yet I am in no way suggesting you should be complacent with your remaining time here.”
“You will lack the formal education that any phrenic would have had before their awakening,” Da'agryn instructed. “You can make up for some of that with practical application. I must stress, and it is of the utmost importance, you must practice these skills discreetly.”
Da'agryn moved back to sit easily on the stone by the fire. Ryl made his way around to his own.
“You must use the ultimate care in keeping the knowledge of your skills and of the Erlyn safe from everyone.” Da'agryn paused. “Especially your fellow tributes.”
Ryl opened his mouth to voice a protest, but a raised finger and a look that demanded obedience stopped the words from escaping his lips.
“Tell me, Ryl,” Da'agryn continued, “what do you think the guards, or the ones who they answer to would do if they learned their precious crops were developing a power they could not understand or hope to control?”
It didn't take more than a second for Ryl to see the scenario play out in his mind. The relative autonomy they now maintained would be stripped away. The figurative chains that held them down would be replaced with ones made on cold, hard steel. He shuddered at the thought of an entire life spent behind bars. The sweltering moving cell that had stolen him from his childhood home flashed before his eyes.
“I understand,” was all Ryl could weakly muster in response.
“The majority of the tributes wouldn't understand even if you did tell them, Ryl,” Da'agryn admitted. “You told them of the feelings the Erlyn gave you, no doubt
. How did they treat you then?”
Ryl knew Da'agryn was right. He could see the faces of other tributes and still hear Elias’ laughter ringing in his ears.
“Continue practicing conveying certain emotions when the correct situations arise,” Da'agryn said. “The minds of the guards or other non-tributes will always be more receptive to your conveyance. Do be careful, however, not to elicit their anger.” Ryl nodded his head in understanding.
“The ability to manipulate emotion is an innate quality that all phrenics and tributes to some degree possess,” he continued. “Additionally, all phrenics, whether they intend to or not, continuously emote the same specific aura, in varying strengths depending upon the concentration of alexen in their blood. Consider this when next you are with a fellow tribute. Once you can identify the feeling, you can train yourself to feel for the presence of other tributes greater distances away. This is a skill known as phrenic mindsight. Once you’ve learned to apply it, finding other phrenic will be akin to locating beacons of light in the dark.”
Ryl thought back to the very first contact with Elias and the other tributes. He had never felt so welcome before. The sensation was overwhelming, it had enveloped him. Ryl had written it off in his mind at the time, a product of the terrifying moon leading up to that point.
“I can see the realization dawn in your eyes.” Da'agryn smiled.
“I've grown so accustomed to that feeling when I'm with the other tributes, that it doesn't register as out of the ordinary,” Ryl gasped, astonished. “I’ll be able to sense other tributes when we are apart?”
“That’s correct,” Da’agryn said. “How do you think phrenics were identified before the cursed testing began? Like any skill that the phrenics possess, some are born with inherently better control over it. There were a few that could sense the presence of other phrenics from miles away.”
“You won't notice inside The Stocks, surrounded by other tributes as you are, yet all phrenics exhibit an inherent attraction toward each other. The greater the concentration of alexen, the greater the magnetism,” Da'agryn continued. “Were you outside of The Stocks, with your active alexen, they would find their way to you, Ryl.”
Ryl shook his head and slumped down to the ground, resting his back against the cold, hard stone.
“Do not underestimate the boon provided by the Erlyn,” Da'agryn stressed. “Woodskin and the ability to command the forest may one day save your life. Communicate with her, the Erlyn will show you the way as best she can. Take heed that you do not overreach when you are working on your skills or with the Erlyn. You’ve felt how draining it can be. I assure you, though, it will get easier with practice.”
“The last skill I can teach you will be the most difficult for you to develop,” Da’agryn confessed. “I must admit that I am not even certain it is a skill you can unlock.”
“Why would you try and teach it to me, then?” Ryl was confused by the seeming absence of logic.
“Whether or not you will be able to unlock and excel in the skill, the steps you must follow in learning its application will be crucial to learning others as well,” Da’agryn stressed. “Statements you’ve made regarding how objects appear to move slower when you’ve been under duress, echo sentiments not spoken in many, many cycles. Statements made phrenics, now long gone, proficient in a skill known as the soulborne wind, an elemental specialty. Your predecessors with active alexen have all shown far greater prowess developing skills across multiple sects, whereas the vast majority of phrenics are only ever proficient in a single skill.”
Da’agryn studied Ryl for a moment.
“Do you remember anything unusual when I knocked you to the ground,” he quizzed.
Ryl thought back. The movements of the old man had been a blur, then there was the gust of wind that forced him backwards.
“You've mastered the soulborne wind, haven't you?” Ryl asked. “That’s how you moved so fast.”
Ryl quieted his mind before releasing the deluge of questions that threatened to spill from his mouth. Da'agryn smiled.
“Mastered is perhaps too strong a description for what I can do,” he said modestly. “With time and effort, I have become proficient in its application.”
“Hold out your hand out, palm up, Ryl,” Da'agryn instructed. Ryl did as asked, holding his hand out in front of his body. Da’agryn brought his right hand up over Ryl’s, stopping just before the two touched.
“Do you feel anything unusual?” he asked.
Ryl shook his head.
“How about now?” Da'agryn quizzed.
Ryl felt a difference in the air between their hands, barely perceptible at first, growing more and more noticeable by the second. The air surrounding Da'agryn's hand was spinning faster and faster, the distortion visible to the naked eye. Just as quickly as the air started moving, it ceased, dissipating outward into nothing.
“Only after you learn to control the blood that flows within your veins, will feats like this be achievable,” Da'agryn lectured. “The first step is to understand the alexen within you. The alexen maintains a natural connection to the elements in this world that even at the height of the phrenic society, we struggled to comprehend.”
“How am I supposed to understand this alexen, if I can never see it?” Ryl pleaded, his frustration growing.
“Ah, now there is the question at the root of your learning.” Da'agryn, reached up to stroke his wiry grey beard. “The largest barrier to surpass is the one created by our own minds.” He reached up to tap his finger against his temple.
“Convincing your mind that the invisible alexen in your blood is a tangible thing and that it holds incredible power is the challenge,” Da’agryn said. “Once you're able to do that, you can isolate the alexen and command it to action, much like you command the Erlyn to open new paths.”
Ryl nodded in understanding as Da’agryn continued.
“I'm afraid you will spend many hours lost in thought before you truly understand how to wrest control over the alexen,” he said honestly. “Practice using small motions. Motions where you are asking the alexen to produce an effect that is in harmony with your actions will be the easiest to accomplish.”
Da’agryn waved his hand in a compact, but rapid motion from right to left. A small gust of wind pelted Ryl in the face, his unkempt hair blowing across his eyes.
“Practice this motion to start using your dominant hand,” Da'agryn instructed. “Focus on controlling the alexen, not to create, but to amplify the small breath of wind your hand naturally creates while making this movement.”
“While I strongly believe that you should be able to accomplish the soulborne wind, do not be discouraged if you cannot.” Da'agryn pulled the cloak back over his arm, motioning for Ryl to follow as he made his way toward the exit once again. “There is no concrete way of telling what your alexen is capable of controlling without first awakening it. I'm afraid that process is impossible given your present circumstances.”
Da'agryn let out an audible sigh as the pair began walking toward the tunnel.
“I truly regret that our time together has to be cut so short,” Da'agryn confessed. “Far too long have we awaited your arrival. Now, there is much to be done.”
Da'agryn stopped and turned to face Ryl, placing both hands on his shoulders.
“Above all, remember, Ryl, to keep what you have learned here and your training a secret from everyone,” he stressed, the importance of his message written clearly across the stern features of his face.
Ryl nodded his head in understanding.
“Tell no one of this place or of the history and truth you now know,” Da'agryn continued. “If it were discovered, it would be devastating to you and the rest of the tributes. Life in The Stocks is hard, but it is relative freedom to the way things could be. The world is not yet ready for what you can do, or the changes you will usher in.”
“When will I see you again?” Ryl asked, dreading the all too familiar hollow feeling of los
s. Strange that the feeling was so powerful for someone he had just met. The connection they shared and the answers that Da'agryn represented were a loss to be mourned.
“There is much for me to do. We will meet again when the time is right,” Da'agryn answered cryptically. “Remember, my friend, you must never lose hope. The world is not as black as it may seem. You will find allies where you least expect them. When you’re free from this place, look to the mountains. You’ll find your answers there.”
With a gentle pat on Ryl's shoulder and without another word, Da'agryn turned and strode from the tunnel.
17
Ryl tried his best to slow his racing mind as he thought back on recent events. In the span of less than a day, he had witnessed miracles, experienced and learned more of the world and himself than in his entire life. He looked in awe at the Erlyn that surrounded the small path he now walked on. The feeling of unease was noticeably absent.
Da'agryn's departure had left Ryl with more questions. He had followed the old man in silence as he walked out of the cave, entering once again the clearing at the heart of the Erlyn. Ryl stopped just inside the opening, Da'agryn continued crossing until he stood facing the large tree.
Ryl watched silently as he again placed both his hands, palms first upon the tree, and bowed his head until it also touched the rough bark. Da'agryn’s mouth was moving, however, Ryl could not make out a sound. The wind in the small clearing began rapidly accelerating in a circular motion, the grass bending with the wind to its right. The woods outside the circle remained still.
Da'agryn removed his hands from the tree, stepping backward to the center if the circle. His arms were now stretched out to the sides, his head elevated toward the open sky above the clearing, his eyes closed. The cloak had long since blown off of his tattooed arm, now following the wind as it curled around his legs. His tattoos were now visible. The section from his elbow to shoulder appeared to be radiating a mild blue glow.