“The remedy brewed from those putrid leaves has drastically exacerbated the onset of the sickness,” Jeffers continued. “The brunt of the ill effects took over within hours. I was worried, to be honest, yet all are stable at the present.”
Ryl was concerned as the mender retold the rapidity of the sickness. The debilitating effects had hammered the tributes’ withered bodies within hours, even before the last had swallowed a drop of the rank liquid. The initial effects of the putrid drought began almost immediately. Without exception, all who consumed the foul liquid were unconscious within half a day.
His eyes scanned the group that had been assembled. All showed some recognition of the harrowing decline. The relief that all were stable was evident. So much so, that the opinion went unvoiced.
Captain Le’Dral stood stoic, though his head nodded slightly with assent. At his sides, Moyan and Millis agreed. Cavlin, seated on a stump a few meters away, grunted as he kicked, returning a stray ember to the fire from where it came. The warrior’s conscious presence was a comfort to Ryl. Though his frame was still weak, still recovering, there was no denying the lethality he still possessed. A sword was strapped casually to his hip.
Andr stood with his arms crossed over his chest at the opposite side of the blaze. His eyes met with Ryl’s for a moment. His opinion was clear. A little apart from the others, the phrenics remained, their bodies motionless, hoods still drawn over their faces. Ryl could feel their gaze from under their cowls. The emotions they projected stated their approval as loudly as any words could convey.
“The course will need to be continued,” Ryl intoned, “though I fear there is no concrete evidence for how long. As the mender can attest, my doses of treatment far surpassed any here. Though I suffered the sickness longer and was incapacitated before starting the remedy, I was back on my feet within a week.”
“It makes sense that theirs will be shorter, though without knowing the strength of your remedy, it will be hard to guess,” Jeffers added. “The leaves have likely lost some efficacy after the drying process.”
“I admit, I was concerned about the violence of the rapid response.” Le’Dral joined the conversation. His voice was authoritative, yet he spoke as one who welcomed input, not demanded obedience. “Their course has corrected. My concern now is for our safety. Too many have now been drafted into the service of the mender. We have too few left to bear arms.”
Words of agreement echoed among the captain’s lieutenants. Cavlin, from his seat, nodded, leaning forward against the crutch in his hand. Ryl shared a knowing glance with Andr.
“We are few, but it will be enough,” Ryl announced. “The army can march as one. They will descend upon Tabenville to find nothing but empty houses and barracks.”
“What of the Lei Guard?” Moyan’s deep voice quizzed. “They surprised us once. Our sentries were butchered, offering us no alarm. We were lucky to survive.”
The unexpected suddenness of the attack still troubled Ryl. The Erlyn had given no warning. The melee held every similarity to the battle at the prophet’s tree. The appearance of the cloaked figure had largely troubled him for moons. That it was a Lei Guard, he was certain.
The Horde had acted deferential to its presence. That they had acquiesced to its command was even more troubling. The woods there still contained the essence of the Erlyn, yet they had been able to approach unannounced. Could the Lei Guard still hold command over the woods as well? Did their tainted bodies still hold enough residual alexen to confuse the woods?
Ryl turned his glance to the phrenics, meeting their eyes for a moment.
“A portion of this will be ours to bear,” he acknowledged. “With a phrenic, a lone sentry is all that is required to man the entrance to the woods. The Lei Guard will be afforded no opportunity of a surprise assault. Only those here know the makeup of our sanctuary among the trees. Fewer still can control the pathway to this location.”
“Elias can,” Cavlin warned.
It was a frustrating and troublesome thought that mirrored Ryl’s concern. The knowledge of an arboreal safe house would spread once Elias connected with the army, or whomever he answered to. Outside of their army, Elias alone had seen the pathway. Fearing that possibility, and longing for the return of Kaep, Ryl had connected with the forest soon after resuming his faculties. Her abduction stung him. That it was perpetrated by Elias wounded him deeper than he could have imagined.
The pain was still fresh.
The response from the woods was definitive. All was quiet. Nothing moved under its domain, though an obvious air of sorrow permeated every branch. It saturated the area, like water absorbed from a rainstorm. Elias was no longer under the Erlyn’s domain, yet Ryl could feel his presence lingering at the periphery of his senses. It was as if he was taunting him. Flaunting his proximity, just outside his reach.
He was south of the forest. Ryl felt an unnatural pull toward him. Even from the boundary of the woods, the mindsight produced no images. Absent were the blackened stains of the Horde. The disturbing void that he’d come to associate with Elias was nowhere to be seen, yet the call was undeniable. The hint of concern from the alexen was obvious, warning him that he was likely being baited to give chase.
“Elias is no longer in the woods,” Ryl added.
“How can you be so sure?” Millis interrupted.
“None disturb the pathways of the forest save our group.” Ryl’s answer was sharp, colored by a certainty in his voice that was undeniable. His tone softened immediately.
“Much has been asked of you over the last few days,” he continued. “Beliefs you’ve endured for a lifetime have been challenged. Powers that were nothing more than myth have been proven real. I ask you to believe, to trust in me once more. He is
