A Tribute at the Gates

by C. J. Aaron

  He looked around the tiny room that he'd called his own with regret. As awful as the conditions were, once he left today, he would never step foot in this common house again.

  A quiet knock in the door broke his silent rumination. He opened it to find Luan standing there, hands clasped together in front of her, eyes red from recently shed tears. She launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around Ryl, squeezing him with all her might.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she managed to struggle out between her sobs and tears. “You can't be leaving.”

  Ryl held her close, doing his best to console her as the tears continued to stream from her eyes. He didn't have the words to say. There were no words he could muster to convince her of all people that everything was going to be all right.

  She was mourning the upcoming loss of one of her closest friends. Ryl choked back tears of his own, as the realization of his own situation set in. For the second time in his short life, he would have to cope with the crushing loss of being torn away from everyone and everything he had ever known.

  Ryl was keenly aware and sympathetic of her plight. She carried inside her the unplanned offspring of an unknown guard. Her belly was growing day by day, the loose fitting clothing could only cover so much. It was only a matter of time before the guards took note.

  “Never give up hope, Luan,” Ryl said, wiping the last remaining tear from her cheek. “Times are changing, I can feel it. Did you ever think that a sub-master would have granted us leave to enjoy time off from assignments? How long have the walls of this common house needed repair? I have to believe there is still more kindness and compassion in the world, it’s just been afraid to show its face until now.”

  Luan looked up at him, a small smile tugging up on the corners of her lips.

  “And you’ve been that change, Ryl,” she said softly. “I pray that once you’re gone everything won’t go back to the way it was before.”

  Ryl shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Luan cut him off.

  “It’s not fair of me to put my worry on you at a time like this. I’m sorry, Ryl,” she groaned, pushing herself back from him, adjusting the front of her dress so that the fabric didn’t lay taught across her growing belly. “We had best hurry, wouldn’t want to be left behind now, would we?”

  Yes, actually we would, Ryl thought as he followed her down the stairs to the main floor. There were a few tributes still milling around the room. The twins were waiting for them by the door.

  “Ready to say goodbye to this dreary place,” Tash said with his typical jovial smile. “It’ll be a nice change to get away from the mist for a while. Almost forgot what it was like to be dry.”

  “Don’t forget about the noise,” Ryl added as he laughed at the quip. “A little silence will be nice.”

  Ryl spread his arms out, placing one on Luan’s back, the other on Tash’s shoulder.

  “Would have been much worse without the good company to get me through it.” Ryl met the eyes of his three friends in turn. “Well, let’s get going.”

  Outside, the square bustled with activity as guards and tributes formed up readying for the long march. The guards had assembled themselves in a semicircle blocking the road leading from the city. Their line curled along the sides of the small plaza, penning the group of tributes between them and the common house. Forty guards, five mounted including the sub-master, and thirty-two tributes all stood waiting for the orders to move.

  Sub-master Millis was standing in his usual spot by the fence to the officer’s quarters, holding the reins of a large dappled mare. He handed the reins to the closest guard, stepping through the formation, crossing a few paces closer to the massed tributes.

  “Listen up,” sub-master Millis announced, his official voice projecting over the din of the crowd and roar of the waterfall. “We have a long march ahead of us. We aim to arrive in Cadsae no sooner than midday on the day before the Harvest. That leaves four long days of walking. Tributes, you’ll walk in pairs of two. Do your best to stay in formation. We’ll break at midday.”

  Millis turned, walking back through the line of soldiers, mounting his horse with ease.

  “Move out,” Millis’ voice boomed over all those assembled.

  With practiced precision, the center of the guards’ formation broke, fanning out to both sides of the road. The guards lining the sides of the square began closing in on the tributes, squeezing them into an unorganized pairings as they moved down the road. As the tributes shuffled forward, the guards marched alongside meeting them stride for stride.

  The disorganized chaos of the tributes’ march quickly fell into step. Two of the mounted guards took the lead, while the sub-master and the others took up their positions at the rear of the train. Millis’ eyes found Ryl’s as he slowly trotted past, the sub-master nodded his head slightly. Ryl chuckled to himself as he noted the extra two pairs of guards grouped around his location in the procession. The sub-master was clearly not taking any chances.

  The sluggish procession left Tabenville, marching past the stables, past the fields. Ryl turned his head, looking back at the village one last time. He harbored a strange feeling of sadness as he observed the small habitation. Throughout the duration of his captivity in The Stocks, the thought of escape was never far from his head, yet now with his Harvest only days away, he found himself longing for more time. The ethereal form of Taben the Defender rising out of the mist followed him with his eyes as he crossed into the gloom of the Erlyn.

  Ryl nervously watched for any reaction from the guards as they approached the location on the road where he had fought with the master’s henchmen. The road appeared undisturbed, none of the guards showed any reaction although Ryl had to choke down the bile as an uncontrolled wave of nausea flowed through him. He could still see the scene as clearly as if it had just happened. He replayed every second of the attack in his mind. He relived the revulsion as he dragged the lifeless bodies into the woods.

  He gave weight to a thought that he’d repressed in his mind. At any point, he could slip into the Erlyn with ease, closing the path before anyone could react. From there, he could command the forest, picking off the guards one by one until not a soul lived to tell the tale. None would know where the thirty-two tributes from Tabenville had gone.

  The proposition was tempting, even more so now than ever before. How long could they remain safely hidden away? What would befall the rest of the tributes? The fear ran through his head at the long-lasting repercussions his decision could have. The Stocks would crawl with more guards than ever, or shut down entirely, forcing the fate of the tributes into solitary jail cells upon their discovery. In comparison, the relative freedom of their current penned in home was far more appealing.

  Before Ryl knew it, the slow journey through the forest neared its conclusion. The front ranks of the meager procession had only steps to take before crossing the threshold into the fields of The Stocks. Ignoring the danger, Ryl focused sending a wave of emotions out to the forest. Sorrow, gratitude, love.

  Ryl staggered as he was caught off guard by the flood of raw emotion that poured back in return from the Erlyn. Tash, walking a pace behind, caught him as he stumbled, helping him right himself before falling silently back into line. He looked cautiously around, happy to note that no one else had reacted to the feeling.

  A slight breeze blew through the trees from behind the procession, rustling the leaves as it passed. The wind carried with it the distant sound of a sorrow-filled wail that was audible by all. Heads turned in search of the source, eyes wide with a mix of intrigue and fear. Just as quickly as it had begun, the wind stopped and, with it, the wailing. The final tendrils of the noise carried a message Ryl heard clearly in his mind.

  Hope.

  The Erlyn fell silent once again.

  The dampness from the mists of Tabenville burned off quickly after leaving the shadow of the forest. The train of tributes flanked on both sides by their guards maintained their sl
ow pace following the main road to the south. While the guards didn’t enforce silence, the group was quiet as they traveled. Ryl felt his anxiety growing with every step.

  The day progressed without incident. Before long, the group was setting up a makeshift camp under the stars. The tributes huddled around a large central fire, while the guards slept on the perimeter, patrolling the camp in shifts. Only the darkened shadows of the passing sentries could be seen moving at the outskirts of the fire’s light.

  After camping outside the first night, the sub-master’s plan would have them spend the next night at the Stillwater camp and the following at Thayers Rest, making Cadsae the following afternoon. Ryl would have the remainder of the day and evening to say his goodbyes. His Harvest would be the following morning.

  The cold, hard ground was as good a bed as any. The tributes huddled up together around the fire. Ryl and Luan were sandwiched between Tash and Palon as they squeezed in among the rest of the tributes, using their combined body heat for added warmth. Sleep seemed to find them all easily that night, all except Ryl. His eyes remained open watching the clear night sky, listening to the quiet pops and crackle of the fire. The effects of the day’s walk helped to quiet his restless mind and he fell into a peaceful sleep.

  They had broken camp and moved out shortly after daybreak the following morning. The pace lagged slightly from the day before, an effect of the long day’s march on the unaccustomed muscles of the tributes. Still, the group forged their way onward in repetitious silence following the lazy river as it moved to the south.

  Shortly after resuming their march following a brief midday break, all were alerted to a disturbance on the road ahead. At the sound of horses moving with speed in their direction, the column was halted. Ryl could feel the tension pouring from the guards, their hands hovering close to their batons.

  Within moments, the approaching riders came into view, reining in their mounts at the sight of the column. They paused briefly in conversation with the lead riders. One of the riders accompanying the tributes pointed back in the direction of the sub-master before the newcomers slowly cantered up the side of the column. Sub-master Millis had made his way down to meet them, stopping just off to the side of Ryl’s position.

  Ryl watched the approaching riders as they moved up the column. Their eyes were in a state of constant motion as they scanned the faces of the tributes. Ryl met eyes with the first of the pair as he looked over the group. Recognition dawned in his eyes and he quickly looked away. His eyes no longer searched the faces of the tributes.

  The riders saluted the sub-master, explaining that they had been sent to round up any tributes that had been left afield. A likely excuse, if not for their behavior when they’d recognized Ryl. The exchange between guard and sub-master was over quickly. The pair saluted before spurring their horses up the road to the north.

  With a hushed word to the guard standing alongside Ryl, the sub-master ordered the column back into motion. A single mounted guard from the rear of the column broke from his position, walking his horse slowly northward in the direction of the recently departed riders.

  The column made better time after restarting their trek to the south. The hours passed along with the miles. Finally, the tired column rolled into the tiny Stillwater camp as the sun began its descent behind the western palisade. In Stillwater, the weary tributes had the luxury of sleeping indoors, although it would be cramped inside the small common house.

  Sub-master Millis approached Ryl as he neared the entrance to the building.

  “A word, if you please,” Millis called out, stopping Ryl before he entered. With a reassuring look toward his friends, he walked to the waiting sub-master.

  “Of course, sir,” Ryl responded pleasantly, following Millis into the small guard shack set in between the tributes’ lodge and the road.

  The guard shack was nothing more than a single room with windows on either side. Occupying the majority of the interior space were three sets of bunks. The small camp on the banks of Stillwater Lake rarely saw groups of this number, so the accommodations were sparse.

  “I know you were watching the riders today,” Millis stated quietly once the door had closed behind them.

  “Aye, sir,” Ryl replied.

  “Notice anything about them?” Millis asked.

  “Their eyes, sir,” Ryl stated immediately. Millis smiled, nodding his head.

  “That’s correct, Ryl,” the sub-master agreed. “They were searching for something, or should I say, searching for someone. Reckon they found that when they spotted you.” The sub-master paused letting the statement sink in.

  “I assume we haven’t seen the last of those two,” Millis continued. “I’m concerned that things may get tricky before we reach Cadsae. You are not to leave the common house unless I personally come to retrieve you. No guard of mine will come looking for you for any reason. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryl replied.

  “From now on, you will be under constant watch from my guards,” sub-master Millis said reassuringly.

  “Different from the ones you’ve had watching me since Tabenville, sir?” Ryl inquired curiously. The corners of the sub-master’s lips curled slightly upward before he checked the reaction.

  “Perceptive as always, I see,” Millis laughed. “Yes, Ryl. I’m not taking any chances testing the master’s depravity. I’ll not face the executioner for his atrocities. If they’re reckless enough to try something, we’ll be ready. That’s all, Ryl. Stay safe.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ryl replied as the sub-master ushered him back outside, passing him off to a guard who escorted him back to the common house.

  Although nervous, Ryl felt encouraged. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, at the sub-master’s core, behind his indifferent exterior, dwelled a good man. He was no doubt fearful of the king’s retribution should tragedy befall a tribute on his watch, yet on a personal level, he also cared for the tributes under his charge.

  As they approached the door, the report of hoofbeats on the hard-packed road caused them to turn their heads. A pair of riders were approaching from the road. Each horse carried a small deer draped across its back. A celebratory cheer went up among the guards as the two newcomers paraded their kills to the small guard shack. Sub-master Millis stood at the door waiting their arrival.

  Within moments, a fire was being constructed and the deer were being hastily processed. All the cooking pots in the Stillwater camp were commandeered as the guards worked feverishly to prepare the evening's meal. It wasn’t often that the daily rations were supplemented with fresh meat. The small camp was abuzz with excitement. The air was soon laden with the mouthwatering scent of freshly stewed venison.

  The gift-bearing newcomers helped prepare the meal, even carried a pot into the cramped tribute’s quarters.

  The magnanimous sub-master accompanied the new guards as they delivered a small pot of the freshly prepared fare to the waiting tributes inside their dormitory. Millis meandered around the room in a seemingly random pattern, eyes scanning the tributes gathered there. The majority of which had hungrily followed the guards with the kettle to the tiny kitchen at the rear of the building.

  Watching the movements of the sub-master, Ryl had remained back from the group that followed in the wake of the food-bearing guards. The behavior was so unlike the typically regimented commander that it raised an alarm with Ryl. Always near his side, Luan and the twins had sensed his apprehension, remaining at his side.

  As Millis approached, his scanning eyes locked on to Ryl’s.

  “Do not eat the stew,” Millis whispered loud enough for Ryl and his friends to hear. “Although I don’t think it can be stopped now, quietly spread the word once we leave.” With that, the sub-master continued his patrol through the small domicile, exiting with the guards that had delivered the meager portion.

  Ryl overheard tidbits of the conversation between the sub-master and the guards as they exited the boarding house. The pair of newcomers w
ould be hastening their exit as they were already overdue in returning to Cadsae.

  Luan, Ryl and the twins shared worried glances before hurrying to stop any of the tributes that would listen, which were unsurprisingly few in number. The overwhelming temptation of a warm, freshly cooked meal was too great for the famished tributes.

  The abnormal, cryptic message from the sub-master had left Ryl and his friends baffled. They and the others who had refrained from eating the stew, watched with jealous eyes as the others who’d enjoyed the unexpected feast relaxed and readied their sleeping areas with bellies full. Ryl and friends had moved to the far side of the crowded room, setting up their spots just to the left of the door. He sat back, leaning his head against the wall.

  Pedlo, a tribute who Ryl primarily knew by face alone, approached four friends, a gloating smile stretching across his gaunt face.

  “Good thing, I didn’t listen to you,” he said, trying not to laugh. “Not a funny joke to sull on pomeone an empty, with…”

  Pedlo’s body wavered as his words stumbled to a stop. He teetered back and forth, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Ryl shot to his feet as the tribute came crashing down to the ground. The unexpected force of the dead weight sent he and Ryl spilling into the twins, who’d scrambled to help slow their falls.

  Ryl rolled the man off him and onto his back. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He put his head close to Pedlo’s mouth and nose, feeling the steady pulse of air that came with every breath. Pedlo had the look of someone who had just fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep. From behind the group, a loud thud and a gasp as another tribute’s unconscious body fell to the floor.

  The door to the common house swung open. Ryl instinctively grasped at the Leaves sticking out of the rear of his splint. Sub-master Millis entered followed closely by another guard who closed the door quickly behind them. Ryl released his hold on the weapons.