“The black cloaks,” the captain gasped. “Those aren’t mere props?”
Ryl shook his head sullenly.
“Most are, though they were fashioned after the only original to have survived,” Ryl admitted. “I assure you, the Lei Guard that wore them didn’t relinquish them willingly.”
The jaws of the captain and the mender hung open as their eyes remained fixed on Ryl.
“All will be explained in time. I promise,” Ryl insisted. “Now make haste, Mender.”
Jeffers moved his arm allowing the pair of guards to slip past. He turned quickly to follow the two into the clinic. A thought again stopped him in his tracks he made to turn the corner from the entranceway.
“Ryl, we just issued the treatments yesterday. Apart from a trivial supply for emergencies, we don’t have any extra,” Jeffers gasped. There was a look of panic written across his face.
Ryl chuckled as he met eyes with the mender.
“Waste not the time packing them or the space they’d take up,” Ryl said. “Leave the poison to rot.”
“Without the treatment they’ll die, Ryl,” Le’Dral interjected.
“I’ve not had any in a nearly a cycle and I stand before you today,” Ryl added. “It won’t be pleasant for them. Nightmares of what they are about to endure still plague me yet survive it they will.”
The thunderous sound of an explosion sounded from the direction of the gate. From his position, Ryl couldn’t tell if the voices screamed out in agony or fear. Backing away from the pair, he reached his hands up, pulling the hood up over his face.
“There’s much you have yet to learn, my friends,” was all he added as he hastened toward the gate.
Chapter 26
The beleaguered village was made ready to be abandoned in rapid order. For the tributes it took but a moment to gather their paltry possessions. A good number carried nothing more than a simple pack and water skin. Some carried nothing.
They arranged themselves in a worried group toward the edge of the village’s northern boundary. Le’Dral had stationed a pair of guards at the edge of the city. Both groups eyed each other cautiously, either preparing for hostilities to ensue at any moment.
Andr and the Vigil had taken charge of corralling the tributes in the absence of the phrenics. Ryl had rushed to the gate as the fireball from Vox’s hand had exploded with a terrifying force. Embers were still raining down from the sky, fizzling as they extinguished on the rough earth. The screams were those of terror. The detonation had occurred to the west of the gate, meters from where the head of the stairs met the walkway along the palisade’s top. The small contingent of brave—or foolhardy—archers who had made ready to loose their deadly arrows now fractured in all directions. While there were inevitably some minor burns and singed hair, none appeared to have been seriously wounded in the assault.
Ramm and Nielix had made quick work of clearing and sealing the interior of the gatehouse. The guards inside the gatehouse had eagerly abandoned their stations as the last of their companions who’d escorted the tributes to the Harvest vacated Cadsae. They streamed through the narrow door into the safety of the barracks, hurriedly closing the door behind them. Any ideas of counterattack withered as the ominous footsteps of the massive phrenic thundered at their tail. With the gate cleared, Ramm removed the substantial drawbar that secured the inner doors, wedging the thick timber into the earthen floor; effectively barring the side door leading to the barracks.
Ryl joined Kaep and Vox as they stood guard. Her bow remained in hand; her eyes diligently covering the Palisades for any signs of threat. Flames burned along Vox’s arm, eagerly crackling for release. The sound of approaching footsteps from behind drew Ryl’s attention. He pivoted to find the twins, Tash and Palon, moving to his position; a group of nearly a dozen tributes followed closely in their wake. Each had armed themselves with crude metal tipped cudgels, likely the cast away scraps from the rundown smithy.
“Ryl, is that you under there?” Tash inquired, tilting his head; peering into the blackness of his hood.
“Aye, Tash, it is,” Ryl acknowledged, quickly removing the hood from over his head. The act of covering his face had been so involuntary, so natural that it was now purely second nature. He felt an awkward sense of nakedness with its removal. “It’s great to see you again.”
“Always knew there was more to you than you let on,” Tash added. “A story for another time, I reckon though. Let us know what you need us to do. Odus and Zed have taken charge of the rest of the tributes.”
To their west, Ryl saw a guardsman lead a set of mules and cart from the stable, pulling up in front of the clinic. A pair of guards, arms loaded with supplies from the mender’s stores, hastened to deposit their wares before rushing back inside.
“I fear our time will soon be up,” Ryl commented with a dry, matter-of-fact tone. “The mender could surely use some help. We need haste.”
“Consider it done,” Tash answered with a wink before turning to the group that had followed him. Palon, silent as always, observed the happenings around the square; absorbing all from their surroundings. His keen eyes logged every detail as they ricocheted across the commotion. He nodded, flashing a wry smile before hastening after his twin.
With the addition of extra hands, the clinic was cleared of the remainder of its supplies in short order. Ryl watched as ever-organized Jeffers cringed when he noticed the haphazard order in which his goods had been deposited into the cart. The final trip from the clinic contained perhaps the most meaningful cargo. The guards exited; carefully navigating the stairs with a litter laden with an unmoving body. Ryl
