Ramm and Vox had joined them after securing the gate and the outer doors. The phrenic had used his strength, and hammer, to crudely commandeer the modest fence that ran along the outside of the warehouse. He had driven the fence piles into the hard ground with ease, wedging them tightly between the rivets of the massive doors, preventing its inswing. The barrier wouldn’t hold long, however, that was never its intent.
All they needed was to buy time. Precious time to increase the distance between the Pining Gate and their retreat.
Andr came stalking up from the direction of the gathered mass of tributes. Ryl noted the captain’s approach from the direction of the clinic, while simultaneously a wagon laden with precious food from the storehouse began its sluggish trek toward the edge of the village. Jeffers took his seat alongside the driver of the medical wagon as they moved to follow the first. He flashed a brief, pained smile at Ryl as their eyes met. The overloaded cart rumbled slowly after the first.
“All are ready, Ryl,” Andr announced. His eyes traveled past, investigating the top of the palisade. The ramparts were still eerily silent. From the city beyond, the noise of commotion and the rhythmic cadence of approaching boots grew steadily.
“They’re making a final sweep of the buildings. It’s time,” Le’Dral added as he came to a stop alongside the mercenary. His eyes flashed with recognition as he studied Andr’s face. As the captain of the guard, Le’Dral was more than aware of the situation regarding Andr’s reassignment to the private security force for Lord Eligar, Ryl’s sponsor. The captain’s absence of shock was unsurprising, as the day had already proven miraculous.
“Convenient reassignment, I see,” Le’Dral commented with a grin.
Andr gleamed a devious smile as he nodded his head. The sound of shouted commands grew from the courtyard on the opposite side of the massive gates.
“It’s time we bid farewell to Cadsae,” Rly announced. “Le’Dral, how many guards remain under your command?”
“It’s a token force,” he replied. “They number only thirty, though all are loyal to the core. Where I lead, they’ll follow.”
“I’d like your men to take the lead with Jeffers and the supply wagons. The black wagon, the Vigil and the tributes will follow. Andr, I want you with them. Have someone relieve Soldi and care for the tributes as best we can,” Ryl added. “The phrenic and I will take the rear. Set the pace as fast as possible. Our horses are limited; save them for those who show any sign of distress.”
Andr nodded before rushing back to the lead of the rapidly forming caravan.
“Captain, do you think we can make the waypoint past Thayers Rest before nightfall?” Ryl asked.
“If it were just the guards, I’d say so without a doubt,” Le’Dral admitted. “You know the state of the tributes better than I. They’ll be hard pressed to make it and still maintain the speed over the coming days if they burn out so early. We’ll know better once we’ve been marching for a few hours.”
Ryl agreed with the captain’s logic. He still remembered the harrowing four-day trek from Tabenville to Cadsae prior to his Harvest, now just a cycle in the past. The journey had been perilous then and it would assuredly be just as dangerous, if not more so, now. He wouldn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they were all safely under the shadow of the Erlyn’s boughs.
His eyes traveled past the captain to the jagged peaks of the Haven Mountains spiking their way across the northern horizon. The mountains seemed impossibly far. He felt a wave of nostalgia rush through him as he vividly remembered the path he and Andr had cut through the unknown wilderness of the Outlands. The mountains were all they had to guide them then.
The captain cleared his throat, bringing Ryl’s focus back from the view in the distance.
“What are your plans with him?” Le’Dral gestured to the motionless form of Maklan, who remained fettered and staked to the ground.
Ryl walked slowly to the unconscious body of the councilor. He bent down, grabbing the black sword by his hilt before tearing it from the earth. A shower of loose dirt rained down over Maklan’s still body.
He let the sword point fall to the back of the councilor’s neck. For a moment, he considered ending the life of the vile man whose hatred for the tributes knew no bounds. Given the opportunity, the corrupted councilor would have likely found his own ways of defiling them, as had Delsith and Osir before him. Rage coursed through Ryl as he raised the sword for its fatal strike.
Closing his eyes, he exhaled a deep breath. The anger that had swelled through him poured from his lips, carried away by his breath. Ryl let the point of the sword drop.
“Do with him as you choose. He ordered your execution, Cavlin’s execution and likely countless others; but I’ll not be his murderer,” Ryl admitted as he turned from the councilors prostrate body. He handed the sword carefully to Le’Dral. “I leave his life in your hands.”
He saw the captain’s hand flex and contract as it fell into a comfortable grip on the long, wicked blade. He watched the anger flash across his face. After a moment, the captain simply nodded his head.
“Leave him. Let the King suffer his failure. He’ll only slow us down,” Le’Dral announced.
With Maklan’s fate temporarily spared and the marching orders established, Le'Dral and Andr moved quickly to commence the flight from Cadsae. Cautiously, the heads of the incoming garrisons of the Kingdom’s guard began poking over the edge of the southern palisade. Their backs bristled with arrows.
Once
