A Tribute at the Gates

by C. J. Aaron

  “Found him, little one,” Zed’s soft voice said. His small, quiet voice was incongruous with his massive frame.

  Aelin burst through the tributes that separated him from Ryl, launching himself into a hug that nearly knocked Ryl from his feet.

  “Where did you go last night?” Aelin asked, voice wavering as he choked back the tears. “Why did you just leave me?”

  “I’m sorry, Aelin. It couldn’t be helped,” Ryl said, lowering himself to one knee. “The captain demanded my presence. He gave me no option to find you once he was done.” Aelin sniffled once, his frown brightened before he punched Ryl in the left arm just below the shoulder.

  The blow from the young boy was shockingly powerful, again nearly knocking Ryl off his feet. Ryl understood the boy’s powers in a way that he couldn’t earlier comprehend. Aelin’s strength, far greater than that expected from a child his age was an expected precursor from one of the physical sect. Were he to learn to control the power flowing through his veins, his strength could one day be unmatched. He could tear down the very gates that penned them into forced servitude.

  “Wow, Aelin, you’ve grown strong since I last saw you,” Ryl said with a smile, looking up toward Zed who was towering over the pair. “Zed must be teaching you well. He’s not having you do all the heavy lifting is he?”

  “If I could only get him to stay still long enough,” Zed said with a friendly smile. “The boy’s strength is a wonder of nature, matched only by the wandering of his mind.”

  The sound of the great gates creaking open interrupted their conversation, all heads in the plaza turned to the party entering through the small opening. The gate slammed shut behind them. Captain Le’Dral strode confidently into the plaza, face drawn into his official, impassive-looking scowl. Sub-master Millis and Lieutenant Moyan flanked him on either side. Cavlin entered a step behind, silently slipping through the closing gates, his path taking him to the side of the plaza where he disappeared into the mass of guards surrounding the area.

  The captain and his officers stopped a few paces from the massed tributes, the line of guards closing the circle behind them.

  “Good morning, tributes.” Captain Le’Dral projected his strong voice to be heard by all assembled. “First, I wanted to offer my apologies for the events that woke you from your slumber last evening.” A muted grumble arose from several places within the mass of tributes. The captain paid them no heed.

  “Tributes from common house one will be free to return to their proper rooms after we are done here,” the captain announced. “The building sustained only minor cosmetic damage from the fire, although without the early warning, the results could have been much different.” The captain’s eyes that had been panning the assembled tributes, stopped on Ryl at the statement.

  “I would also like to first address the rumors that have no doubt spread to many of your ears,” Le’Dral said.

  The crowd silenced, all eyes and ears focused on the captain awaiting his next words.

  “Over the last several nights, there have been attacks perpetrated against your fellow tributes, both on the road from Tabenville and here in Cadsae,” Le’Dral announced to the waiting ears of the crowd.

  “Prior to last night, the attacks have resulted in only minor injuries,” the captain continued. “Last night, the tribute named Sarial was severely wounded. She is under the care of the mender and is expected to recover fully.”

  With his last statement, the group exploded into a chorus of angered voices. The sound made unintelligible as each tribute spoke louder competing with the next. A single voice, split through the din like thunder through a storm. Ryl felt an uncontrollable wave of rage wash over him, projected like a shockwave from the usually placid giant that was Zed.

  The crowd parted before him as he barreled his way toward the captain. Ryl quickly fell in behind him, he knew there would be no stopping the big man, he’d crush them all. He focused, sending wave after wave of calm over him. Lieutenant Moyan and sub-master Millis took a step in front of their captain, calling out for the big man to stop, one hand raised, the other on their batons.

  “What happened to Sarial?” Zed’s voice roared over the crowd.

  A guard raced forward from the circle, swinging his baton low at the big man's knees. Zed reacted immediately, catching the baton with his hand as if it were a feather falling from the sky, reeling it in with the guard still attached. He hoisted the guard from under his armpits, throwing him like he would discarded a scrap of iron into the legs of the lieutenant and sub-master. All three men went down in a tangled heap.

  “Who did it? I’ll tear every one of you limb from limb until I find out who hurt her,” Zed growled at the guards, who’d all drawn batons, yet were hesitant to rush the rampaging giant. Ryl knew arrows from the wall would come next. There would be no saving his friend then.

  Sending out one final blast of calm, Ryl reached inside drawing on a fraction of the speed he’d used the night before. The world around him slowed ever so slightly. Ryl closed the distance between them, raced around the Zed, placing both arms on his chest and planting his feet to slow him. He may as well have been trying to stop a wave. The big man pushed him backward, feet sliding across the ground as if he wasn’t there.

  “Zed, stop,” Ryl screamed at him, trying to break his focus. Zed’s eye’s looked as if they were burning, swirling with the fires from his forge. It was a frightening look that sent chills through Ryl’s body.

  “Look at me, Zed,” Ryl pleaded with his friend. “Please, they’ll kill you.”

  “Listen to your friend, tribute,” Captain Le’Dral commanded as the tribute approached steadily. The captain stood defiant in the face of the charging tribute, he had yet to pull his baton in defense. The ring of guards around the tributes started rapidly closing in.

  “The one responsible for her attack, for all the attacks is dead,” Le’Dral projected his voice so that all could hear. “The master is dead.”

  The words snapped Zed from his rage. He fell to his knees, arms resting heavily on Ryl’s shoulders. His face was awash with a look of bewilderment. The din of the agitated crowd ceased with a collective gasp. The only sound from the plaza was the slight whisper of the breeze on the air.

  “Breathe, Zed,” Ryl whispered soft enough for only his friend to hear. “You’re all right, let the feeling pass.” Zed looked knowingly at Ryl for a moment, before the voice of the captain continued.

  “Yes, Master Delsith and his bodyguard were found dead last night during the sweep of the common house after the fire,” the captain announced. “The atrocities that have come to light will not be permitted to continue. Effective immediately I will be assuming the role of Master of The Stocks.” The captain walked a pace forward to where Ryl and Zed still remained while the hushed conversations from the tributes carried on around them.

  “This behavior will not be tolerated again, tribute. Do you understand?,” Le’Dral hissed at Zed in a voice that commanded obedience.

  “Yes, sir,” Zed said softly.

  The man who, a few moments earlier, could have moved mountains, now wavered in the gentle breeze.

  “Back in line, tributes,” the captain commanded. Like dogs with their tails between their legs, Ryl and Zed slithered back into the mass of tributes.

  The tension that, moments earlier, seemed ready to spark an all-out revolt, had subsided. The guards, while still alert, no longer stood ready to attack or defend. Lieutenant Moyan, the sub-master and the guard were all back on their feet. Anger brewed in the guard’s eyes, while Moyan and Millis studied the retreating bodies of the tributes with suspicion and awe.

  “When assignments commence again after the morrow’s Harvest, you will report to Lieutenant Moyan for you tasks,” Le’Dral continued. “There will be no assignments today. All must stay within the boundaries of Cadsae. Dismissed.”

  The captain turned abruptly, heading back toward the gate, while the lieutenant and sub-master, with a nervous gro
up of guards in tow, moved toward the Master’s House and clinic. The guards surrounding the tributes backed off, breaking off into groups to carry on their normal duties, whether into patrols or sentries on the road.

  “What’s happened to me, Ryl,” Zed pleaded in a whisper. “It was like I was watching myself from the outside. I was begging my body to stop, all it wanted to do was to tear them to pieces. Then you were there, trying to stop me. I couldn’t listen. Ryl, you looked like you were glowing, the light was blinding.”

  Ryl saw the fear written across his friend’s face. He had lost complete control of himself, the power in his blood had taken over. Da'agryn had warned him to control his emotions, to control his temper. The frenzied effects of letting oneself slip too far into an emotion were terrifying. Ryl thought for a moment before responding. He had vowed not to let his secret, the phrenics’ secret come to light.

  “Everyone has a breaking point, Zed,” Ryl confessed. “I crossed mine when I found out what sub-master Osir had been doing to the tributes in Tabenville and it nearly killed me. They would have killed you, Zed. You have to control your emotions.”

  The crowd of tributes had thinned dramatically while Ryl and Zed were talking. Aelin waited a few paces away from the pair. Ryl called him with a wave, the boy bounded over.

  “Aelin, can you do me a favor and walk with Zed back to the common house?” Ryl asked softly. “I'm going to go see if I can get in to see Sarial. We'll talk later.” Ryl ruffled the boy’s hair, turning toward the clinic without waiting for a response.

  There was a group of five guards standing watch outside the shared entrance to the clinic and Master's House. As Ryl approached, Cavlin separated himself from the group, meeting him halfway.

  “Why was I not surprised to find you in the middle of that mess this morning, too?,” Cavlin said, voice remaining emotionless. “Mender’s banned everyone from the clinic until further notice, yet he asked to see you if you came. Full of surprises as always.”

  “I'm afraid I don't have much time for more,” Ryl said with a heavy dose of spite.

  “I don't believe that for an instant,” Cavlin retorted. “Now, in with you.”

  50

  Ryl entered the clinic to an unexpected scene. The mender’s desk, a normally dutifully organized workspace held an uncoordinated array of loose papers and tools of his trade. He could hear the mender beyond the first cloth partition.

  “Hello, Mender Jeffers,” Ryl said tentatively, quietly announcing his presence.

  “I thought I told you I wasn't to be disturbed,” Mender Jeffers snapped before shoving his head around the curtain to identify the intruding party. The look on his usually placid face was abnormally distressed, yet it softened seeing Ryl at the door.

  “I’m sorry Ryl,” Jeffers apologized. “Come in. Quiet now, she’s finally resting peacefully again.”

  Ryl quietly made his way around the partition to where the mender was standing observing his sleeping patient. Though Jeffers looked exhausted, Sarial, his lone patient at the moment, looked far worse. Arms folded across her stomach, Ryl watched the slow, even rise and fall of her chest. The entire left side of her face was covered in varying shades of black and dark blue bruises, the eye on that side barely noticeable beneath the swelling. A small line of stitches stretched across her forehead. The right side of her face had fared better as far fewer blows had connected there, yet a single large bruise dominated the lower portion of her face.

  “The death those two received was far too merciful, if you ask me.” Mender Jeffers’ quiet voice hissed with animosity. “Thought we’d seen the end of this after Tabenville.”

  Ryl agreed with the mender although his thoughts wandered at the statement. The master and his henchman got what they deserved.

  “Thank you, Ryl,” Jeffers said. The tone in his voice had softened and wavered with emotion. “Thank you for convincing me to send someone to look for her.”

  Ryl shrugged in response.

  “Do you think she’ll wake before the morning?” Ryl asked, changing the subject.

  “I’m not sure,” Jeffers said. “Injuries like this can be troublesome, there’s no telling when she’ll wake. If she awakes before the morning, I’ll have the guard fetch you. I promise.”

  “Thank you, Jeffers,” Ryl grieved. His voice faltered as the built up emotion began to boil over. “You’ve been a bright light in what’s been a dark world for us tributes. Please promise me you’ll remain here for them.”

  “I’ll do everything I can, Ryl,” Jeffers said honestly.

  “I can’t help the feeling that with the captain now serving as the master that the winds of change are finally blowing, and for the better,” Ryl said hopefully. “Still, they’ll need all the help they can get. They need all the allies they can.”

  “Ryl,” a weak voice interrupted their conversation. “Ryl, is that you?”

  Both Ryl and Jeffers were at the bedside in an instant. Ryl dropped to a knee, gently cradling Sarial’s shaking hand in his own. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  “I’m here, Sarial,” Ryl said softly.

  “I heard you. I saw you come to save me,” Sarial’s voice was as quiet as a whisper. “You were glowing, a brilliant golden light, blazing with the intensity of the sun. It’s just the way I’ve seen you in my dreams, Ryl.”

  The mender regarded him with a confused look. Ryl was worried she might have just connected him to the scene of the attack.

  “I'm glad I got to see you before the Harvest,” she said, her weak voice choking with emotion. “It’s always too early, there's never enough time to say the things that need saying. Be the fire that this world desperately needs, Ryl.”

  Sarial struggled to lift her right hand, straining to place it tenderly on the side of Ryl's face.

  “I love you like a son, Ryl,” she gasped out the words. “Until we meet again. My boy.”

  A tiny pained smile tugged up on the corners of her lips. Her arm went limp, falling to her side. Her eye closed as a single tear rolled down her cheek. The tears were falling from Ryl's eyes like the rain. He leaned his head close, feeling her breath on his cheek.

  “I love you, too, Sarial,” Ryl whispered into her ear. “We'll meet again, Mother.”

  He leaned in close, planting a single delicate kiss on her bruised cheek.

  Ryl looked up at the mender. Both men wiped the tears from their eyes. The mender took a step back, peering around the other side of the divider.

  “And I know, somehow, you had more to do with this than you let on,” Jeffers whispered, forcing a small smile across his tear-streaked face. He placed his hand caringly on Ryl’s shoulder.

  “Whatever it is, your secret’s safe with me, Ryl,” Jeffers said.

  “Watch over her for me, Jeffers,” Ryl pleaded softly.

  The mender looked down at Sarial, his gaze resting on her for longer than normal. Ryl watched the mender with appraising eyes. He’d seen the master and his bodyguard look at her, their eyes hungry, devouring her every feature. Jeffers’ eyes were wrought with conflicting emotions. The emotionally detached mender fought a losing battle against a much more powerful sentiment.

  “I will,” Jeffers whispered.

  “And your secret’s safe with me, too, my friend,” Ryl said quietly, patting the mender on the shoulder. Jeffers shook his head as if breaking out of a trance.

  “Now, I must prepare for the inspections,” the mender said woefully. “You’ll be brought back to me this afternoon with the other tributes ready for Harvest. Agents of your sponsors will need to verify your condition before you’re released to their command tomorrow.”

  “Do you know what happens after that?” Ryl inquired. He knew why the tributes were Harvested, not where they were taken after leaving The Stocks.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know where you’ll end up, Ryl,” Jeffers said, hanging his head at the statement. The mender look deflated. “No one knows except your sponsor and the king’s agents, of cours
e. What happens next is a closely guarded secret, well beyond my station.”

  “I thought as much.” Ryl shrugged.

  He reached out his right hand to the mender. Jeffers looked at it thoughtfully for a moment before reaching out his own. A firm handshake turned quickly into a brief hug as the mender pulled Ryl toward him. Jeffers had tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he pushed Ryl back.

  “Ryl, it’s an honor to call you my friend,” Mender Jeffers said, sniffing back the tears that threatened to fall.

  “Likewise, my friend,” Ryl said, looking down at the sleeping body of Sarial. “You’ll send for me if she wakes?”

  “I will, Ryl,” Jeffers said.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Ryl said as he walked backward toward the exit. “Watch over them all for me.”

  Ryl turned and exited the clinic.

  There were a few tributes still milling around the square when Ryl exited the building, their numbers still dwarfed by the amount of guards stationed around the village. All work assignments had ceased in preparation of the Harvest. The square was eerily quiet without the consistent hammer of the blacksmith.

  The top of the palisades had come alive with activity as guards and civilian workers hurried to set up tiered bleachers and chairs for the spectators. The walls would be packed with bodies on the morrow, all positioning to get a glance of the tributes as they were hurried off to their anxious sponsors.

  Ryl spat on the dry ground of the square at the thought. The mass celebration. The show that the Harvest had become. How could these people not see that the tributes were all human, not animals bound for the slaughter? Many of the tributes that would be gathered here were still children.

  There was a crowd forming outside of his common house as he ambled his way across the square. His heart dropped. He knew what was happening. The reality and finality of the situation set in like never before.