The time was rapidly approaching when all would be forced to decide.
“I seek not the deaths of those who hunt us even now,” Ryl admitted, his voice honest yet firm. The familiar fire churned in his veins, lighting the blaze that swirled within his eyes. “If our motive was bloodshed, we four could have razed Cadsae Proper to the ground. There is likely no force you could have mustered to stand in our way.”
Millis gasped at the statement. He saw the captain tense slightly to his side.
“I say this not with conceit, but with honesty,” he admitted as he turned his eyes on the captain. “What you saw was only a taste of the power at our command. The tributes are already vilified by the population. I'll not willingly turn them into the monsters that people think they are.”
His eyes returned to Millis. Though he controlled the fire that raged within, the tone softened while the resolve remained firm.
“We aim to avoid bloodshed at all costs,” Ryl continued. “The phrenics are by nature peaceful, the attributes suited for war born out of necessity. A natural balance of power to hold back the darkness from sweeping over the land. Know that soon all will be called upon to make a choice. We do not seek their death, yet there will be no mercy for those who aim to do us harm. For those who stand in our way.”
Ryl sighed, his voice taking a low tone.
“The phrenics you see here today represent a significant portion of the entirety of our people,” he admitted softly. “The tributes here are the hope for our survival. I will defend them, along with anyone here, with my life.”
Through the darkness Ryl felt Millis’ piercing gaze. Their eyes locked for a moment. Time seemed to freeze; the commotion of the hushed conversations, the thud of the stomping hooves of the agitated horses dimmed to silence.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there’s always been more to you than meets the eye,” Millis commented. “Things are vastly different now than when you left. I’m honored to say that you have my friendship and my support.”
The lieutenant nodded his head subtly before reaching his hand out. Ryl again took the hand of a man who'd in a little over a cycle’s time had gone from a figurehead of the jailors who kept him and the tributes in chains, to a friend.
The world around him was changing faster than he ever could have dreamed.
“I have no doubt that they will come,” Le'Dral added. “Maklan will not suffer the insult. When they do, the forward guard will stay with the tributes, Jeffers and the wagons. I will assemble the remainder of the force with Millis.”
“The cavalry will likely reach us first,” Ryl added. “At first sight, make for the nearest grove. Left in the open, our horses will be negligible in comparison. If any get past the phrenics, they'll roll over your guards like a wave.”
The captain shook his head in acknowledgement. A pained smile crossed his face.
“Let us hope it doesn't come to that, my friend,” Le'Dral admitted.
The weary procession moved northward under the cover of darkness. Their movements were sluggish, and the dark of the cloudy night hindered their pace as much as it hid their movement from the watchful eyes on the Palisades. Millis and another had taken a pair of horses and rode out quietly southwards toward the ruins of the bridge. All knew pursuit was coming; advanced warning would be crucial.
Ryl rode in a circuit from the vanguard to the rear. At the moment, he was the primary connection between the phrenics, the tributes and the rebel guards that had defected with Le’Dral. He filled the role with hesitance; the eyes of all bore into him with a questioning that ate away at him.
Their progress was slow, yet unimpeded. With little in the way of varied terrain to bog them down further, they covered ground step by cautious step.
They’d been moving for over an hour when Ryl was alerted the sound of rapid hoofbeats approaching from the south. With haste he scanned the area with his mindsight, calmed that Kaep and Ramm who were on patrol south of the caravan were showing no sign of alarm. Their glowing signatures maintained constant pace though the noise of approaching horses grew steadily.
Ryl, who’d been walking with his horse alongside the tributes, cut short his conversation with his friends. Luan and the twins were eager to catch up. They were still in partial disbelief that destiny had reunited them. Young Faya walked alongside Aelin. The pair had been inseparable since nearly the moment they’d met. Ryl had made no attempt to hide the smile that spread across his face as he witnessed the transformation in the normally energetic, stubborn boy. Aelin had been a handful before his Harvest, seemingly caring for neither the menders, the guards, nor Sarial’s commands. He now walked calmly, hand in hand with Faya. His stubborn intensity replaced by a compassionate need for companionship.
She was one of the few close to his own age. In this alone, they shared a connection that few could hope to understand. Life in The Stocks had for ages forced the children that were confined here to grow and to mature far ahead of their times. Aelin was just another proof of the test. He would treat her as an overprotective big brother dotes over a younger sister. Even as a boy, his strength was nearly unmatched. Ryl feared for the safety of any who’d come intent to do Faya harm.
With a last reassuring command, Ryl mounted his horse, moving quickly toward the rear of the caravan and the approaching
