“Bring him,” Ryl ordered.
Andr slid his blade into its sheath, taking his place at Ryl’s side. Dav approached from the rear, carefully avoiding the puddle as he spun the councilor, wrenching him toward the side of the wagon.
With Maklan in irons, Ryl made his way slowly to the back of the wagon. As the guards who would have been standing along the outer gate had moved to the side wall, there were none within eyesight of the interior. He opened the door slowly, making a show of collecting Faya from the inside. He gave the young girl a gentle, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as she whined in feigned protest. She dragged her feet, tracing mild lines on the dirt floor as he pulled her toward the towering inner gate before them.
A feeling began tickling at his senses as he stepped toward the inner doors. Distant at first, the familiarity rapidly became overpowering. The warmth of the welcome—that natural presence that exuded from the very cores of those with alexen in their blood—blossomed as his proximity to the tributes shortened.
Ryl stopped a few meters from the edge of the gates. His hand was balled up in the loose fabric that made up the ill-fitting rags they'd clothed young Faya in. The phrenics and Andr stopped a step behind him. Dav and Nielix followed along the rear corners of the wagon. Nielix's hand hovered menacingly close to the hilt of his confiscated sword. Dav pushed the uncooperating form of Maklan roughly in front of him. The chains on the vile councilor’s feet jingled as they scraped across the hard earth.
The tributes inside The Stocks had been alerted to the commotion from the top of the palisade. The uncertainty manifested in several unfiltered waves of fear, anxiety and infinite sadness that swelled unknowingly from their ranks.
The heat flowing through Ryl’s veins reached a scorching inferno. The call from his blood was nearly undeniable, virtually uncontrollable. He fought the urge to tear the gates down by hand. With a deep steadying breath, he temporarily stilled the force that raged from within.
It was time.
He turned his head slightly to the left, nodding at Ramm to his side. Wrapped in the black cloak, the massive phrenic moved like a shadow across the room. His destination was well telegraphed, leaving no question as to his purpose. The pair of guards manning the control chain for the massive wooden bar blocking the doors frantically scurried from the path of the gigantic black figure moving in their direction.
Ramm reached his hands high above his head, staggering their grip as he pulled down on the thick metal chain. After the initial exertion of the pull, his arms moved with ease. The massive wooden bar that spanned the pair of doors slid into the far wall. He continued pulling until the bar disappeared entirely into its recessed slot. There was a grating sound of wood on stone followed by an ear-piercing cracking of timber as the drawbar smashed into the end of its concealed track. Bits of mortar and debris rained down from the ceiling above.
Ryl closed his eyes, steadying himself for what was to come. He opened his mouth, the roar that resulted shook the very foundation of The Stocks.
“A tribute at the gates.”
Chapter 23
The volume of his call resounded through the enclosed chamber. Young Faya at his side covered her ears with her hands, shrinking away from the noise. From outside the wall, the murmured sound of voices drifted through the cracks in the thick wooden doors.
After handling the chain for the drawbar, Ramm moved to the center of the gates where the two panels met. Several inches of wood were now the only physical barrier standing between them and The Stocks.
Standing between them and the tributes.
Ramm swiveled his head slightly, looking at Ryl with his peripheral vision.
The subtle nod of Ryl’s head was the signal the hulking phrenic awaited. He watched with rapt attention as the phrenic strode forward toward the meeting of the massive wooden gates. Ramm rolled his shoulders as he lunged toward the monumental doors. Rearing back, he let out a guttural grunt, one that bordered on a scream, as he planted his hands on each of the solid panels.
Ryl watched in awe as both sides of the normally sluggish doorway burst open. The rapid movement kicked up a thick cloud of dust and dirt from the road beyond. The light from the early morning flooded through the open gates. He squinted his eyes as they rapidly readjusted.
Ramm paused as the doors parted, his breathing heavy. The phrenic’s shoulders rose and fell with every breath. The air passing violently from his nostrils was audible—like the snorting of a bull ready to charge. His hulking frame, shrouded in black, struck an ominous pose in the open doorway.
The phrenic remained where he stood, letting Ryl pass. He fell in line with the other phrenics and Andr as they followed several meters behind. Cloaked in the black of the Lei Guard, Ryl appeared from the cloud of dust at first as a shadow, which then resolved into the form of a man as he separated himself from the gloom of the interior chamber. The hanging particles in the air swirled into small eddies in his wake as he materialized into Cadsae with a new tribute in tow.
His sudden appearance caused a gasp of surprise from the spectators assembled on the wall as well as from the unfortunate souls gathered within. The area fell silent, watching in anxious anticipation as the line of black cloaked warriors, mounts in tow and a wagon followed through the settling dust and debris.
The tension in the air was tangible; a definitive weight of uncertainty and fear. The air felt thick as if the gravity of the Harvest and the oppression from the Palisades loomed over the square, choking out the precious oxygen.
Ryl’s first view of the inside of
