A Tribute at the Gates

by C. J. Aaron

  “Please forgive me if I sound rude for asking,” Ryl said meekly, focusing the feeling of sincerity over the lord. “I truly appreciate all that you’ve risked, all that you’ve done for me. I have one question. Why are you throwing away the chance for long life, for endless power, for me?”

  Ryl let his head fall as the words escaped his lips. The lord’s chair scraped on the floor as he pushed it backward. He crossed to Ryl, kneeling at the side of his chair.

  “Ryl, I’ve lived a privileged life. That, I freely admit,” Fay said softly. “Since I was a child, I’ve wanted for nothing. I have enough money, enough material possessions to last a hundred lifetimes. Why do I need more?”

  Eligar let the statement linger for a moment before continuing.

  “Only since I accepted the invitation to the Deliverance have I begun attending the king’s Court, albeit infrequently, in Leremont.” Lord Eligar shuddered mildly at the mention. “I’ve seen the other nobles, or so they call themselves, that have suckled off the teat of long life, that have more power than any one man or women should have. The last eight cycles I’ve spent attending their Court, their banquets, their balls are more than enough to last an eternity. There is something dark, something wholly wrong with each and every one of them.”

  Ryl opened his mouth, closing it again as he couldn’t find the right words to say.

  “I don’t say this to in anyway trivialize the life that you’ve been subjected to,” Lord Eligar said compassionately, placing his hand on Ryl’s shoulder. “The system of tributes, of the Harvest, is an abomination. No child, no person should have to face what you’ve faced. We live with an inherited system that values life as no more than a crop, a resource to be exploited for personal gain by an ageless few.”

  Fay rose. Crossing back to his chair, he circled behind it, leaning against its back.

  “As Old Man Averine said, the world is tinder awaiting a spark,” Fay quoted. Ryl picked his head up, regarding him with curiosity. “Awaiting a catalyst.”

  55

  Their conversation was cut short by a knock on the door. Captain Elne announced himself before entered the lord’s quarters.

  “It’s nearly time, my lord,” the captain said. “Sun’ll be setting soon. The boats are nearly ready. Seas will be rough. The storm’s moving faster than I thought.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Lord Eligar said gratefully. The captain turned, heading back outside. His booming voice could be heard barking out orders as he moved across the deck.

  “Ryl, it appears our time together is coming to a close,” Fay said regretfully. “Go with Andr, see to any final preparations. I’ll meet you again on deck.”

  “Thank you, Fay,” Ryl said appreciatively, rising from his chair and tossing his pack over his shoulder. “Thank you for everything.”

  Lord Eligar smiled a broad smile, nodding his head before launching into a conversation with Mender Gencep. Andr, who’d already risen, motioned for Ryl to follow as he walked out of the cabin.

  The deck bustled with activity in the low light of the evening. The skeleton crew hustled about their duties. They were stretched thin as preparations were made to prepare the escape boats and scuttle the vessel. Andr led Ryl up the ladder to the quarter deck where there was far less activity.

  “You’ll be out of the way here,” Andr said. “I’ll finish the preparations and send Mender Gencep with some remedy. You’re looking green already and we’re bound to have a rough sail ahead of us.”

  Andr retreated back down the ladder without another word. Ryl braced himself against the railing. Judging by the position of the setting sun, they were sailing in a southeasterly direction. They were surrounded by nothing but sea. The vast, blue waters stretched out uninterrupted to the horizon. Ryl lost himself in thought.

  Lord Eligar said that he was a free man, yet somehow he still felt chained. Chained to a destiny that was pushing him past the outskirts of society. The cryptic last words from Da’agryn echoed in his head.

  When you’re free from this place, look to the mountains. You’ll find your answers there.

  The Haven Mountains that capped the northern end of The Stocks extended toward the northwest. The impassable wall of stone formed a definitive border to the kingdom along its eastern front. Its western edge bordered the Outlands, and the unknown. The directions felt impossibly vague.

  Ryl heard the approach of footsteps behind him, turning to see the mender moving cautiously his way.

  “Hello, Ryl,” Gencep said with a smile that showed his age. “Andr said you’d be needing some remedy. Drink this. It’ll help keep all that food inside you where it belongs. Take one now, save the second for the morning if you haven’t reached land.”

  The mender handed him two small vials of clear liquid. Ryl accepted them graciously, downing the bitter liquid without hesitation.

  “I’m sorry. It tastes awful, I know, but it’ll work,” Gencep said apologetically. “Not as bad as the treatment, I hear. Averine told us the truth about the vile concoction. We were only able to requisition three weeks’ worth of the stuff. Hopefully, you’ll be somewhere safe by then. It’s already packed away with the supplies on your boat.”

  Ryl couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The extra treatment nearly doubled his time before the sickness set in.

  “Anything I can do for that arm before you go?” the mender asked with a sly smile.

  Ryl let out a small laugh. He grown so accustomed to the splint and the feel of the Leaves against his arm that he’d forgotten they were there. He shook his head.

  “I know, young man. Appearances,” Gencep said, chuckling to himself as he ambled back to the main deck.

  Ryl undid the straps holding his splint on, carefully tucking it into the small pack he still carried over his shoulder. He leaned against the railing, looking out at the endless expanse of the sea. For a moment, he got lost in the shimmering beauty of the waves as they sparkled in the light of the setting sun. The sky was a wash of vibrant purples, reds and blue that heralded the coming night.

  The sky darkened quickly, the blackness of the early night soon descended upon them. Lanterns were lit, illuminating the deck to allow for safer footing in the steadily increasing turbulence of the sea. Andr returned from making his preparations.

  “The winds are blowing in the right direction and the darkness will cover our escape,” he said calmly. “Lord Eligar is waiting for you by the skiff. It’s time to go, Ryl. ”

  Ryl followed the guard back to the main deck. The crew had hoisted the small boat over the side of the frigate, tying it off so that it dangled precariously over the rolling sea.

  “Well, Ryl, this is where we say farewell,” Lord Eligar said with a morose smile. “Listen to Andr. The sea’s going to be rougher than we’d thought. He’ll get you to shore safely.”

  “Thank you, Fay,” Ryl said again. “You’ve had my life in your hands for cycles. You know nothing about me, yet you chose to set me free. Word can’t express my gratitude. I hope to someday repay you in any way I can.”

  “My boy,” Fay said softly. “From the few stories I’ve heard about you and tidbits of information I was able to pry from Averine, I know more than enough to see that you have a gift none of us can begin to comprehend. What destiny has in store for you, I know naught. But I know you are not just some unknown tribute from an isolated village.”

  Lord Eligar put his hands on Ryl’s shoulders, looking him square in the eyes.

  “Know this, Ryl,” Fay said. “You may wear the brand of my house on your neck, but I stake no claim over your life. You are free. Live your life as you choose. If fate allows that we should meet again, you’ll be welcomed into my home with open arms.”

  Ryl threw his arms around Fay, tears leaking from his eyes. Lord Eligar patted him gently on the back, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion.

  “It’s time to go, Ryl,” Fay said, stepping back. His eyes glistened with moisture. “You have a long voyag
e ahead of you before you’re back on dry land, and you’ll want to be far away from here when she explodes. Take care, Ryl. May we meet again, my friend.”

  The lord reached out his hand, shaking Ryl’s firmly, before turning to the captain.

  “Help them aboard,” Lord Eligar ordered. “Then we abandon ship.”

  “Aye, sir,” Captain Elne responded curtly.

  The crew helped steady the swinging boat as Ryl and Andr clambered aboard. The skiff couldn’t have been more than three times his height in length, consisting of nothing more than a hollowed out shell, a slender mast and boom with sail furled and a rudder. Several bundles of supplies had been packed and lashed securely to the gunnels. With a final wave from Lord Eligar, the boat was lowered. Ryl watched as his unexpected savior disappeared behind the hull as the skiff reached the water

  Andr ordered Ryl to stay down in the front of the small craft as he went to work, immediately freeing the skiff from the ropes of the frigate. The small craft leaped forward as the unfurled sail caught the wind. Ryl could do nothing more than stay low and hold on as they rose and fell through the swells. Thankfully, the remedy Mender Gencep had given him was working. Still, the momentary weightlessness before the sickening drop from the crest into the wave’s trough threatened to turn his stomach.

  Wave after wave they pressed on, distancing themselves from the frigate. The lanterns that illuminated the deck dissipating into mere pinpoints of light that disappeared and reappeared as they rose and fell over every swell. The rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning signaled the coming of the storm on their trail. Ryl felt the occasional drop of water from the sky strike his exposed face.

  The flash of light hit them moments before the sound. The sky brightened with the intensity of daylight. A breath later, the sound hit with a force he both heard and felt. The plume of fire expanded out and upward before vanishing as quickly as it came. Flaming debris from the wreckage of the frigate fell from the sky like rain, while other chunks bobbed helplessly in the waves.

  “I hope the others made it far enough away from that,” Ryl said hopefully.

  “I’ve known Lord Eligar by reputation for longer than I’ve known him personally,” Andr said gruffly. His focus remained preoccupied by navigating their small craft through the growing seas.

  “He is a meticulous man, notwithstanding his reckless nature,” Andr explained. “He truly cares about those under his oversight. He wouldn’t have needlessly left any of them in harm's way. With that being said, everyone who volunteered for this mission did so knowing the risks.”

  Ryl thought about the implications of the statement. Everyone there, nearly thirty people he’d never met, who never even knew his name, were willing to risk everything to help him escape. The glimmer of hope he had that society was ready for a change, that the attitude toward the tributes had swayed grew in him. Perhaps, the winds that whipped his hair into his face were, in fact, the winds of change that he’d dreamed about for so long.

  The miles passed as did the time as Ryl and Andr raced to stay ahead of the storm. The fast moving gale that traveled in their wake caught them quickly. The rush of the sea, roar of the wind, sharp peal of thunder and the hiss of the rain made conversation nearly impossible. Ryl did his best to stay as low as possible, out of the force of the stinging rain. He huddled in the boat, holding on as tightly as he could.

  The storm seemed to last a lifetime. Ryl’s muscles burned from maintaining his hold on the slippery wood. Even with his woodskin lessening the impact, his entire body was sore from being tossed around the small boat. At the command of Andr, he’d take to frantically bailing out the water that sloshed around under their feet with the only tool available to them, his hands. Although his phrenic cloak was remarkably waterproof, he was soaked to the bone. He’d wrapped his small pack containing his meager, yet invaluable possessions under his cloak to keep them as dry as possible.

  Flashes of lightning illuminated the surrounding ocean. The thunder sounded its deafening war cry over and over as it worked with the sea to topple the small craft. Through the storm, Andr held firm. Ryl had no idea if they were traveling the right direction. The wind and the sea had their own plans, carrying them on a path of their choosing.

  The slight brightening of the sky from behind was a welcome sight to the weary travelers. The path before them was still obscured by the might of the storm. A bolt of white light lanced across the sky before them. Ryl thought he saw a darker mass growing up from the sea on the horizon.

  “Did you see that?” Ryl shouted to Andr over the volume of the storm. “Is that land?”

  Andr squinted his eyes, peering out into the driving rain, scanning for signs, waiting for another bolt of lightning to illuminate the sea ahead.

  “Not sure,” Andr cried in response. “Keep your eyes open. The winds have been strong and we’ve been traveling almost the whole night. If the captain was correct, we shouldn’t be far now.”

  Ryl positioned himself in a crouch, scanning the horizon for any hint of land through the rain and surf. Small bolts of lightning flashed to the sides and back, yet they could make out no sign of land in front of them.

  A massive bolt of lightning split the sky, casting its blinding light on the surrounding seas. Andr screamed in warning, panic in his voice.

  “Ryl, hold on,” the guard cried, jamming the rudder to the side, ducking low to the deck.

  Ryl was pitched sideways into the boat. In the momentary flash of light, the silhouette of the wave made him freeze in terror. The wave came at an angle nearly perpendicular to the rest of the swells, rushing at them with speed. The whitecap top churned with fury as their small skiff desperately made it’s away diagonally across its face. He ducked, grabbing onto the mast near Andr’s feet.

  Their small craft was doomed in the face of the disastrous wave. The mast sheared in two as the wave broke on top of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryl caught sight of the boom wiping around toward him. All he could do was focus on the woodskin solidifying over his head and torso.

  The stray timber and sail slammed into Ryl. His vision spun momentarily, then went black as he was pitched overboard into the icy, churning sea.

  56

  Even through the blackness, Ryl could feel his head spinning. At the same time, he had the sensation his body was also spinning, yet at a different speed. The mix was nauseating, too much for him to take. His eyes shot open as he retched out the contents of his stomach over and over again. His eyes took a moment to focus, yet his insides continued to spill out.

  He was expelling nothing but liquid, a briny, stinging mixture of sea water and bile. The acidic concoction dissolved immediately into the loose gritty sand. Having emptied the contents of his stomach, he rolled to his back, exhaustion seeped from his every pore. Ryl clenched his hands together, scooping up a handful of the sand, letting it escape slowly through his fingers.

  He was alive.

  He closed his eyes, thinking back to the last moment he remembered. The wave. The broken boom. He had no recollection of how he ended up on the beach. With effort, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, taking stock of the scene around him.

  Ryl sat alone on a small beach. The sea in front of him was calm, its mild waves lapping gently on the shore in a soothing steady rhythm. The anger in the sea and sky had, for the moment, subsided. The sun had crested the horizon, yet still hung low, ascending into a cloudless blue sky.

  A short distance to his right, the beach ended in the near vertical face of a cliff. Its towering ascent reached nearly one hundred paces into the sky. To his left, the mountain face continued unbroken as far as the eye could see. To his rear, a narrow natural ravine that led upward through the face of the cliff. Several monstrous boulders lay scattered in the soft sand, a deadly precipitation from the cliffs above.

  Just outside the reach of the calm surf rested a small pile of debris. Ryl worked himself to his feet, stumbling through the sand toward the object. The narrow rounded s
ection of wood from the mast, and the tattered remains of the sail rested on the beach. He scanned the small area for any signs of other debris. The beach was deserted.

  He was alone.

  The shock of panic set in as he acknowledged the reality of the situation. Where was Andr? He looked back and forth across the quiet sea, turning again to the beach. Both were clear of any other signs of debris. Ryl turned back to the sea, cupping his hand over his mouth to amplify his call.

  “Andr,” he yelled, projecting his voice as loud as he could. “Hello.”

  No response, only the quiet splash of waves on the shore.

  Ryl repeated his call again and again, waiting and listening between each. Still nothing.

  Defeated, he sank to his knees, closing his eyes, letting his head rest on the soft sand. He was alone. He hadn’t the slightest clue where he was.

  “Ryl,” the voice echoed in his head. He shot up to his knees, looking back and forth along the deserted beach.

  “Ryl, up here,” the voice called again. He looked up. There, atop the cliff to the left of the narrow ravine, stood Andr. The guard waved. Ryl could see his smile from where he kneeled on the beach. He made no attempt to stop the tears of relief and happiness that leaked from his eyes.

  A few moments later, Andr came skidding down the ravine, sitting down with a groan beside Ryl.

  “So, is freedom all that you’d thought it would be?” Andr asked sarcastically. Ryl rotated, letting his body fall to the sand.

  “Welcome back to the living,” Andr said, relieved. “I thought’ I’d lost you when that wave hit. You can thank what’s left of that mast over there for saving you.” He waved his hands toward the debris on the beach.

  “Well, that and a whole lotta luck,” he said unbelievably. “You got tangled up in the sail. It kept you afloat and slowed you down enough for me to reach you. But frankly, I don’t know how you survived the blow to the head. I’ve seen men crushed from much less. Then again, you’ve been full of surprises since I met you.”