Andr, with the assistance of several idle guards, had emptied nearly half of the wagon of its supplies. Cautious of the mender’s scorn, the guards had been working to catalog and organize the hastily gathered materials.
Turning the corner of the black wagon, Jeffers and Sarial stopped abruptly in their tracks. Nielix was carefully lowering a litter containing the emaciated body of one of the tributes from the facility down from the back of the wagon. Dav and Soldi were assisting in moving the laden stretcher. Already three tributes lay on the ground behind the wagon; two rested in a sitting position, supported by the large wooden wheel. Though they were conscious, their eyes were unfocused, staring blankly off into the distance.
Sarial gasped aloud. Jeffers’ eyes widened for an instant before reverting to their habitual look of analytical focus. He hurried to the side of the closest body resting quietly on the ground, beginning his cursory examination immediately.
“What happened to them?” Jeffers asked as he bent his head down, placing an ear against the man’s chest.
“We pulled them from the processing facility in the shadow of the Martrion Ruins,” Ryl said. “They had been bound nearly vertical to wooden slabs likely since the cycle burned into their neck.”
He glanced at the neck of the man who lay unmoving on the ground as the mender examined him. The dark red brand was in stark contrast to his pale, stretched skin.
H1345.
This man had likely languished in that facility six cycles. How many vials of the blessed elixir had he produced? How much longer would he have remained before being discarded or corrupted as an initiate of the Lei Guard?
“Other than the incision and needle that bled them from their arm, we know little of what they were forced to endure,” Ryl admitted. “The menders who oversaw them chose to poison themselves rather than submit to interrogation. We were able to collect a journal from the facility, though it’s written in a code that none of us could read.”
Jeffers’ head shot up from his examination at the mention of the journal.
“I’d be interested to see it,” Jeffers interjected excitedly. Ryl could see the wheels of his intellectual mind spinning rapidly at the thoughts of decoding unknown medical or scientific knowledge, no matter how dark it may be.
Sarial moved to the side of the mender, kneeling beside him, placing her hand delicately on the tribute’s arm.
“They have names,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone. “His name is Rao.”
Tears swelled quickly in her eyes. A single, salty drop trickled down her cheek.
The name sparked remembrance in Ryl. They’d shared a home inside the walls of The Stocks for nearly two cycles. Ryl felt a wave of remorse and regret that he’d failed to recall his name.
Behind them Vox appeared in the back of the wagon. He bent down, resting the litter on the floor before hopping down and collecting the crude handles once again. Ramm moved quietly to the end of the wagon watching as the next of the tributes was moved. Soldi assisted with the other side of the litter as Vox slid it from the wagon.
Sarial had raised her head, her tear-filled eyes taking in the tributes lying immobile on litters or sitting, staring into oblivion.
“I know them all,” she whispered as the tears began to stream again. “They’re but shells of what they once were.”
Ryl closed his eyes, offering a small, painfully forced smile as he nodded his head.
Soldi and Vox lay down their newest charge on the short, green grass a meter from where Jeffers and Sarial kneeled. This tribute was lashed to the litter by both his hands and his feet.
Ryl saw Sarial’s eyes bulge as she recognized the body on the gurney. The tears that had been increasing steadily, ran free like rain pouring from the clouds above. She half stumbled, half crawled to his side, immediately throwing her arms around him. She choked out his name through the wracking sobs that tore through her body.
“Elias,” she cried. Her pleading eyes turned to Ryl. They were filled with a depth of sadness, anger and pain that Ryl couldn’t hope to understand.
“Ryl, he was like a brother to you! Why is he bound like this!?” her initial questions were spoken with a tone of animosity that stung Ryl far greater than any wound, any injury he’d sustained. He fell to his knees beside Sarial and Elias, putting his arm gently around the sobbing tribute.
“What did he do?” her pleading voice was now wrought with fear. The meteoric swing of her emotions was not entirely unsurprising to Ryl. So much had changed so quickly. He was sympathetic.
More was to come.
“I didn’t think there was any part of the man we once knew left when we were first reunited. I know not if that man will ever again return,” Ryl stated. He forced the emotion from his voice for fear of it overwhelming him.
“Life beyond the Harvest has ever been an unknown for those of us who are prisoners of The Stocks,” Ryl continued. “I know now what fate lays beyond those gates. Surely none harbored fantasies of peace; the truth, I’m afraid is far more grim than imaginable. Once the alexen has been drained from their body the shells that are left are repurposed. It’s from these shells the Lei Guard are born.”
Sarial rocked back on her feet, sitting roughly on the grass by Elias’s side.
“How’s that possible?” Jeffers intoned as he continued to examine one of the tributes a few steps away. His voice spoke of disbelief. “How could the tributes be capable of such wanton hate and destruction? They’d never rightly serve the King that had kept them enslaved for most of their lives.”
“I fear the tributes have no say in the matter. Permission is neither asked nor granted,” Ryl spat. He could feel the anger building, igniting the fire that raced through his veins. The infinite sadness he felt at his
