Ryl reined in his mount alongside the captain, who sat anxiously atop a horse of his own.
“The phrenics remain, I see no sign of alarm,” Ryl recounted. “Could it be the scouts?”
The captain peered into the darkness of the road from the south. The thunder of hooves grew rapidly. Ryl searched the area again with his mindsight at the same time his eyes surveyed the darkened surroundings for any sign of alarm.
From the south a large shape moved in the night, appearing to materialize from nowhere. The figure of a single horse and rider took shape. Its rapid approach came to a skidding stop several meters before their line. The heavy breathing of the horse was the only sound to break the anticipatory hush that had fallen over the area.
“Captain, I bring news from the scouts,” the familiar voice pierced the foreboding silence.
Ryl breathed a sigh of relief as he knew the crier.
“Millis, what news have you of the pursuit?” Le'Dral called into the darkness. Millis slowly walked his horse forward. The instantaneous relaxation that washed over the area was palpable.
“As expected, their scouts weren't far behind,” Millis announced in a low voice as he came close. “We trailed a pair from Thayers Rest. They are aware of our deception. The cavalry was camped just across the river.”
The news wasn't unexpected, yet Ryl had hoped their group would be further north before they were intercepted. Attack was an eventuality he accepted was coming. He knew the moment would soon arrive when he, the tributes, the phrenic, and Le’Dral and his men would cross swords with the guards.
He'd accepted his fate. Accepted the reality.
Had the rest?
“They ride now,” Millis continued. “They'll be on us by sunrise.”
Chapter 30
The pace they resumed bordered on frenzied. With the element of surprise now lost, lanterns and torches were lit, illuminating their path northward.
It was still hours before dawn when they passed the Stillwater camp. Behind the silhouettes of the buildings, the faded moonlight sparkled off the calm, tranquil waters of the lake. With the annual migration of fish from the sea long since passed, the waters remained abnormally placid throughout the rest of the cycle.
They were miles past the camp when the first rays of the sun’s morning light began to brighten the deep violet sky to the east. A light wind blew from the south, carrying the moist chill of the air from the coast. The pungent smell of freshly disturbed earth carried on the currents. A cloud, a dark smudge on the horizon to the south, lifted steadily into the air.
Ryl rode at the rear, keeping a steady watch on the landscape to the south. The sky lightened rapidly with the coming of the day. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before the forward ranks of the approaching cavalry would be visible in the dim light of the dawn. He noted Le’Dral riding along the western edge of the caravan. The captain stopped his horse, waiting for Ryl to pass before turning around, spurring his mount alongside Ryl’s.
“Millis’ estimate was correct,” Le’Dral acknowledged. “They’ll be on us not long after daybreak.”
Ryl pivoted his head at the statement. The cloud of dust rising into the lightening southern sky had grown closer.
“Less than a mile ahead there is a grove,” Le’Dral continued. “It’ll be our best chance of defense against a mounted charge. They’ll likely not seek to harm the tributes, yet I’d still rather not risk their safety.”
“I agree, captain,” Ryl shook his head approvingly. “Spread the word; I’ll gather the phrenics and Vigil.”
Le’Dral nodded his head before urging his mount forward with a curt command. Ryl steered his horse to the side of the column, letting the guards pass as he waited for the phrenics to arrive. Ramm and Vox rode with the rear guard.
“Looks like they desire another show of force,” Ryl called quietly as he trotted purposefully to his location. “We’ll stop at the next grove. We’ll be the vanguard for whatever force that comes.”
Ryl knew that the phrenics would stand beside him; would fight any foe willingly. They were brothers and sisters in arms. They were forever bonded by blood. Their destinies were intertwined.
“I’ll collect the Vigil and Kaep,” he added. “I want none to pass our ranks.”
His statement was profound. His resolution adamant. There was always the knowledge that blood would need to be spilled, no matter how much he wished to avoid it. The inevitable had likely arrived on their tails.
Ryl rode forward collecting Andr and the Vigil from their places among the black wagon of tributes. A few lengths ahead, Jeffers rode at the head of his moving medical clinic, with Sarial in the rear and young Elora by her side. The pair of tributes looked up, offering weak smiles, before returning to their work changing the blood-soaked bandages that wrapped Cavlin’s torso.
Soldi and Nielix were to remain with the wagons. Rolan offered his blade to the cause, yet Ryl politely turned his services down, insisting that he protect his daughter and assist in guarding the wagon. Le'Dral had ordered a force of ten to remain with the tributes as they hurried into the relative safety of the small grove.
In most situations, it would be a token force. Today it represented nearly a third of their paltry army.
The first sliver of the morning sun was clearing the top of the eastern palisade as Ryl reined his horse to a stop on the main road. Ahead, the jagged peaks of the Haven mountains stretched into the sky. The colossal statue of Taben the Defender stood defiant, his
