by C. J. Aaron
The rear half of the room was entirely devoid of furniture. Situated close to the pool and river, the rainfall commonly flooded the room. The rising waters from the latest storm had crept up to a depth that would have submerged his shin. The various waterlines stained on the wall provided a history of the past floods.
The common house could easily hold over one hundred tributes, yet was never more than roughly a quarter full. The remoteness of the village and modest volume of crops rarely required a considerable amount of labor to attend. The small group of tributes seated at the table nearest the kitchen turned their heads in unison as the sound of the sticking door announced Ryl’s presence.
There was an innate comradery among all tributes, a tragic bond to which only they could truly relate. For the most part, all were outwardly friendly toward each other, yet there were only a small number with which Ryl shared the closer bonds of friendship. His smile grew as he immediately picked out the face of one of his friends from the small crowd.
Luan leaped to her feet at the sight of Ryl, rushing across the room at breakneck speed. She nearly toppled him over as she threw her arms around his neck in a choking embrace. He could feel the moisture seeping through his shirt from her tears on his shoulder.
“We didn’t know if you were still alive.” Luan struggled to enunciate her words through her sobs. “We haven’t heard any news. The last we saw of you was your lifeless body being carried away by the guard.”
“I’m sorry if I scared you, Luan,” Ryl whispered, placing his hand delicately on the back of her head. “I’m very much alive.”
She pushed herself away, separating herself from Ryl. He wiped the tears off her cheek with his the side of his hand. She slapped her hand against his chest, the corners of her mouth turning down into a deep frown.
“What were you thinking?” she scolded Ryl. “I told you not to do anything foolish. They could have killed you.”
“I’ll admit the plan was rash, but I won’t apologize for what’s been done even if the ending for me was less than desirable,” Ryl stated unapologetically. The thought of sub-master Osir made Ryl's blood boil and his skin crawl. “That man was a monster. There's no justification for his actions or the vile acts he inspired.”
Luan took a step back, regarding Ryl with an aberrant look of understanding.
“That look in your eyes, it's the same intensity and fire you had in your eyes before you stood up to Osir,” Luan remarked, studying Ryl.
“What's done is done, Luan,” he said softly, sending out a feeling of reassurance. “I'm here now, and in one piece. How have you fared since I left?”
She gave Ryl a curious, questioning look before responding.
“Come sit with us,” Luan said, gently leading Ryl toward the table. “We can talk once you’re sitting. You look like you might collapse at any minute.”
Ryl hadn't realized how weak his legs were. He was swaying slowly side to side.
“Thank you, Luan,” Ryl said. “I'm afraid the last moon of immobility coupled with the brutal ride here have sapped most of the strength from my legs.”
“Well, you're lucky to be alive,” she snapped. A hint of the previous scorn flashed across her face. “Hopefully, you've learned your lesson.”
The pair reached the table where they greeted the rest of the tributes gathered sharing their meager meal. Ryl recognized all of the six seated around the table, greeting them all with a nod of the head and a wave. The look of awe written across their faces was evident. Ryl felt his insides twist in discomfort. Only the twins, Tash and Palon, stood to greet him.
Tash was speechless, grasping Ryl’s hand and pulling him into a suffocating hug that squeezed the air out of his lungs. Ryl could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he broke off the embrace, clapping Ryl on the back. The wave of gratitude from Tash again surged through him.
Palon also grasped his hand, pulling him in close.
“Thank you for doing what none of us had the courage to do,” Palon whispered soft enough for only Ryl to hear.
In all the cycles he'd known the twins, that was the most he'd ever heard Palon speak. He nodded his head in response as the normally silent twin returned to his place at the table.
Ryl relaxed into the hard, wooden chair, noting for the first time since leaving the wagon how exhausted he was. He had hardly spent a moment idle throughout the entire day’s travel, his mind was in a constant state of motion. It was remarkable how the mental toll compounded his physical weakness. He stifled a yawn as the conversation shifted to the events of the last moon.
Few tributes aside from Luan, Tash and Palon had witnessed Ryl’s actions on the pier, yet all had ingrained the descriptions of the actions into their memories. All accounts were no doubt embellished. Notwithstanding, none had a full grasp of the truth. No one had known that his initial plan was failing. Only through the unseen assistance of the unknown guard had he been able to complete what he’d intended to do. To cull the horrors that were occurring in Tabenville.
After Ryl was pulled from the water, no further rescue attempts were made for the sub-master. His body had been claimed by the waters, no trace had been seen of him since. The guard worked feverishly to expel the water from Ryl’s lungs. At the first sign of breathing, Ryl’s limp, lifeless body was whisked away by the same guard, pushing his horse at breakneck speed down the road. Within moments, they’d disappeared into the dark yawning mouth of the Erlyn.
As the severity of the events that had befallen only moments earlier set in, the tributes, fearing for their lives, had barricaded themselves into the common house. It wasn’t until the following morning that the guards seemed to acknowledge that the tributes weren’t at their assignments. There were a few feeble attempts to goad the tributes out to return to their work. Several halfhearted attempts were made to break down the door, yet inside and unmolested the tributes remained for nearly three days until Captain Le’Dral and his troops arrived from the garrison in Cadsae Proper.
Through the few small windows on the second floor of the common house or through the gaps in the walls, the tributes watched with bated breath as Osir’s troops were rounded up, stripped of their weapons and bound. Muffled cheers passed through the tributes as the worst offenders were hauled from the group and executed on the spot.
Captain Le’Dral, with another officer in tow, had approached the common house, spoken with an uncondescending kindness, even asked permission to enter their home to discuss the events that were occurring in the small settlement. No guard had ever asked permission from the tributes to do anything. As matter-of-factly as possible, the captain had informed the tributes of the change in the guard at Tabenville. All were gathered in the large room on the first floor to hear the captain speak, a good number standing ankle deep in the flooded water to listen to his words.
All in attendance hung on the captain’s every word as he promised that the atrocities that had been committed here would never again be permitted within the walls of The Stocks. Since their coming to The Stocks, never before had a member of the guards addressed them with such clarity and honesty. There was no hint of hostility in his tone. The disgust in his voice when speaking of the actions of their former sub-master was clear to all.
After introducing the new acting sub-master, an officer by the name of Millis, the captain bid them farewell. His final task before leaving Tabenville was the destruction of the pillory Osir had commissioned on the pier. Le’Dral watched, motionless, hand menacingly resting on the pommel of his sword, while a pair of the former guards disassembled the torture device, hauling it piece by piece to the middle of the square where it was set ablaze. By the time the fire burned out, the captain and every last member of the old regime that had caused so much pain were gone from Tabenville.
True to the captain’s word, Millis had proved to be a vastly different sub-master than his predecessor. The thirst for bloodshed had been replaced with a level-headed approach to the tasks at hand. Although
not outwardly cruel, he was no pushover, accepting no excuses for poor labor, from either the tributes or his troops.
Millis and, as a result, his troops were hands on, replacing the use of tributes to maintain the guard’s barracks, stables, officer’s quarters and their landscaping. No more were the troops stationed in Tabenville allowed the permanent idle time as in the past.
The attitude toward the tributes from the guards had changed immediately. The predatory behavior had ceased, replaced with indifference. No tribute believed the situation would remain a permanent change, however, no one complained about the positive revision to the status quo, albeit a temporary one.
Ryl was overjoyed to hear the dramatic shift in attitude that had occurred in Tabenville. For the first time in his life, he had made a decision that had positively impacted the lives of the tributes sharing the sentence with him. The feeling of having power, of even the slightest sliver of control over his own life was exhilarating.
His eyes grew heavier as the night wore on, his yawns more frequent. Ryl excused himself from the group at the table, bidding them goodnight. Propping himself up with his crutch, he rose to find Tash and Palon had circled around him, lending a hand supporting him as they made the way up the stairs to the first floor.
The twins led him to an open room a few doors down the hallway. The furnishings were even more sparse than in Cadsae, consisting of two pallets, one on either side of the small room. He thanked the twins who left seeking their own quarters and deposited his crutch and pack on the floor near his bed. Sinking down roughly on the cold, damp pallet, Ryl closed his eyes, falling asleep within a matter of moments.
32
The uninterrupted, dreamless sleep from the night's rest did wonders for Ryl's aching body. Rising early, he was able to stretch his still stiffened legs and make his way downstairs before the rest of the tributes arrived. Although the mobility in his legs had returned to relative normalcy, he could feel the strength lagging far behind.
The first tributes to join him were the twins, Tash and Palon. As it turned out, they were his companions in his current work assignment in the orchards. The trio left the common house together. The twins slackened their paces as Ryl hobbled along in their wake. He knew, at this moment, his legs were still far too weak to make it to the orchards, yet stubborn as he was, he was determined to make the attempt.
Ryl felt a twinge of nervousness as they crossed the square running alongside the buildings inhabited by the guards. A group stood in a loose semicircle in front of the gate to the officer’s quarters, their voices drowned out by the roar of the falls.
By and large, the group paid them no heed as the trio quickly skirted by, leaving as much room between them as possible. The twins slowed, closing in on either side of Ryl.
“A moment, if you please,” came the call from one of the guards closest to the gate. The others parted, letting him through.
“Ah, so you must be the one Mender Jeffers has been yammering on about,” the guard said. “Welcome back to Tabenville, Ryl.”
The trio stood frozen in place as the guard approached. There was nothing in particular that stood out about him, his features seemingly chiseled into an innocuous form. He was an average height, average build, his oval face and tan skin seemingly blended in with the rest of the guards. His hair and clean-shaven face were a model of the regimented military style.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the guard stated plainly. There was no hint of animosity in his voice. “I'm sub-master Millis. Good morning, twins. Apologies again for still not being able to tell the two of your apart.”
Ryl’s initial reaction to the words of the sub-master was shock. Millis was so vastly different from his predecessor it was like comparing the night to the day. He glanced past the new officer in charge of Tabenville, expecting to see the hateful daggers coming from the looks from the other guards standing behind him. To his surprise, their faces showed consistent looks of indifference.
“Good morning, sir.” Ryl spoke loud enough to be heard over the noise from the falls.
“The mender said you'd be joining us for the duration of your rehab,” Millis said with a small smile on his face. “Specifically wanted me to remind you that he doesn't want you climbing any trees for the time being. Knowing Jeffers, he's reminded you of that already, hasn't he?”
Ryl smirked, holding in a laugh that threatened to escape. Mender Jeffers was nothing if not predictable when it came to the application of his craft. He nodded his head in approval.
“Twins, your treatments are available in the waystation,” Millis continued. “Collect them there on your way to the orchard.”
“Yes, sir,” Tash answered for the pair of them. Palon stood silent, face impassive as ever.
“The wagon that brought you yesterday headed back to Cadsae already. I have a handcart waiting for you at the waystation,” the sub-mastered offered. “Might not be the most dignified ride, but the mender’s letter says your legs won’t be strong enough to make the walk unassisted for some time. I expect it to be returned with your supplies at the end of each day.”
“Yes, sir,” Ryl answered for the trio this time. “Thank you.”
The last words felt foreign as they escaped from his mouth. Neither the masters nor the guards had ever done anything for the tributes worth offering thanks. Whether this was a genuinely thoughtful act, or a result of Mender Jeffers dogged persuasion, the gesture was appreciated. So far, with the exception of the guards that delivered him on the previous day, the attitude in Tabenville was considerably less toxic.
Ryl and his companions moved up the road from the square, stopping at the waystation for the twins to accept their weekly treatments. Both guzzled from their water skins as soon as they choked down the vile offering.
As promised, a wagon awaited them along with their supplies for the day, meager rations, flint and steel, two worn buckets and a rickety wooden shovel. Tash's eyes traveled from the cart to Ryl, then back to the cart once more. The uncontrollable smile that grew across his jovial face was infectious. Ryl chuckled and shook his head.
“It’ll do my legs good to get some exercise,” Ryl laughed. “There’ll be plenty of time to wheel me around later.”
Ryl managed to walk until the entrance to the Erlyn. His legs cried out for a rest so, swallowing his pride, he accepted the ride in the small cart.
The conversation with Tash was light, centered around the work itself. Palon, true to form, remained silent for the duration, eyes darting from place to place as if cataloging every last detail. Ryl fought back the urge to tell the two about the Erlyn, about their powers, about the poison they were forced to ingest week after week. But in the end, he heeded the words of Da’agryn. He’d already potentially placed future generations of tributes in enough danger as a result of his reckless actions.
The twins had made decent headway in the orchard since Ryl had begun the job the previous moon. The infestation was far worse than had been expected. As a result, the work had taken considerably longer, and this cycle’s yield would be virtually nil. Looking at the remaining portion of work, he doubted he’d have ever completed the job under the previous sub-master.
Tash unceremoniously deposited Ryl next to the remainder of a fire from the previous day’s labors, helping him unload the paltry supplies. He was hit with the pungent odor from the heaping pile of rotting fruit deposited in the middle of the aisle between the rows a short distance away.
“We’ve been stockpiling as much wood and branches as we could find over by that fallen tree.” Tash pointed to where one of the uniform trees in the orchard had fallen. The tree was split in two, the gash that separated it charred on both sides, likely the victim of lightning during a recent storm.
“We’ll be down this row a bit,” Tash said, waving his hands down the aisle toward the western palisade. “Holler if you need help.”
Tash hurried off after his brother, who’d already started in that direction without a word.
Ryl took a moment to stretch his legs that had stiffened during the ride through the Erlyn, then hobbled off to find wood to start a fire.
33
The work in the orchard took the better part of the moon for Ryl, Tash and Palon to complete. The strength had returned rapidly to Ryl's legs. Within a few weeks’ time, the walks to and from the orchard were no more taxing than before his near death. Having grown tired of tending the putrid smelling fires, he all too willingly had taken to the trees to help with the work in their branches. The three took turns manning the rotting infernos.
While Ryl’s legs were unwittingly slow in rediscovering their lost strength, he had not been apathetic with his other secretive training. As his duties primarily left him alone in the orchard, Ryl was able to make efficient use of his time honing the application of the woodskin as well as the phrenic mindsight.
Tash and Palon proved to be an unknowing and invaluable resource during his study. As they were frequently separated by some distance, Ryl was able to test the bounds of the mindsight to locate the other tributes.
Waiting until the twins had moved deeper into the orchard, Ryl would focus on the telltale signature of a tribute. The glowing orbs that represented their energy diminished as the distance between them increased. Once they disappeared completely, Ryl found that he could locate them again by sending out wave after wave of energy, like ripples spreading out across a still pond. The distance increased only a small amount daily, yet Ryl viewed any increase as a success.
The application of this mindsight allowed him to continue honing his other skills while still maintaining his promise to Da’agryn not to divulge the knowledge that he had learned. With confirmation that the twins were out of eyesight, Ryl was able to continue practicing both the woodskin as well as attempting the soulborne wind with little fear of discovery.