He commanded the attention of all gathered around the fire.
“As some can control the pathways hidden within this forest, there is much more that can be understood from these trees,” Ryl admitted. “When connected to the Erlyn, I can feel the passing of every footstep that treads on her soil. I can sense the tingle of the breeze that rustles the leaves, like wind jostling the hair on my head. None linger, hidden beneath these boughs, who would cause us any harm. The same can be said for Kaep. She has been moved beyond the domain of the forest.”
This much Ryl had already known. The phrenics had been emphatic in their scouting. Kaep was one of their own. She was as much a sister to them as any could be. Her disappearance, her loss was mourned. So soon after the death of Deyalou, the agony was too real.
Their combined searches had come up empty. Ryl felt the alexen agitate. The blood in his veins burned as the thought amplified the emotion. He wasn’t ready to give up on finding her yet.
It was true, much had been asked of all within the last few days. Most had accepted the change without contestation. Though the truth countered a lifetime of belief and learning, it was impossible to argue with the new reality.
“I’m sorry, Ryl. We scouted with the phrenics well beyond the orchards,” Le’Dral replied. The concern and compassion in his voice was genuine. “We traveled as close as we safely dared to the scattered mass of the army. There was no sign of your companion.”
“I’m not willing to give up hope yet,” Ryl hissed as the emotion surged.
“I’m afraid there is not much we can do, given our present situation,” Le’Dral commiserated. “If there was a chance of reclaiming her, I’d ride out tonight. They have more than a full day’s head start. Even hindered by having to carry her, they’ve likely rejoined the army at this point. We cannot stand against that force in the open.”
Ryl knew the logic was valid. He burned to shake off the words. Action was needed, not complacency. A commotion from the base of one of the trees temporarily drew his attention.
Faya skipped across the clearing with all the reckless abandon one would expect from a child her age. Ryl continued to marvel at her ability to maneuver uninhibited even though her eyes were sightless. Rolen followed close at her heels. His kind, fatherly voice, however, did little to disguise the frustration and embarrassment at his young daughter’s actions. His words did nothing to dissuade her progress.
“I’m sorry,” Rolen called as his daughter squeezed through the gap between Le’Dral and Moyan.
“They’re right about Kaep.” Faya’s soft voice was still heavy with sleep, though her sightless eyes were bright with mischief. “I saw her, Ryl.”
Ryl knelt as Faya stopped a step away.
“How?” Le’Dral breathed.
Her face pivoted toward the captain. A mild look of annoyance registered across her countenance. The look was short-lived. She turned back to face Ryl, a coy grin stretching seemingly ear to ear.
“I saw her in my dream,” she announced. “They approach the army even now.”
Vox moved a step forward. A wave of wonder washed over Ryl.
“She’s a seer,” he whispered. “None have been recorded since the palisades were constructed.”
“Tell me, young Faya.” Ryl placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “Was she well?”
Faya nodded as she sat herself on Ryl’s bent leg. She threw one of her thin arms around his shoulders.
“Aye, Ryl,” she answered, though her face contorted slightly into the beginnings of a frown. “She was still sleeping, and her arms and legs were bound. Elias, he keeps looking back over his shoulder, though he makes no attempt to hurry.”
“Come on, Faya, love. Let’s get back to sleep.” Rolen stepped closer, his hands outstretched to collect his daughter.
“If they’re close, we can ride now.” Ramm’s voice was forceful. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles whitening under the pressure. “We’ve faced foes stronger than they have mustered.”
Ryl turned his head, shooting the phrenic a hardened look that pleaded for pause. The accompanying focused wave of emotion cried for patience. His look softened, almost playful as he returned his attention to Faya.
“Thank you, Faya,” Ryl said. “Your counsel is welcome, always. Now get some rest.”
He tousled her hair as he made to rise. Faya wrapped her other arm around him, squeezing his neck with a tight embrace. She whispered into his ear as her head leaned against his, “I see you with her, Ryl.” Her voice was barely audible. “Don’t make her wait.”
She planted a sloppy, childish kiss on his cheek before climbing into her father’s arms. Rolen apologized profusely for the interruption as he led his daughter back to rest. All eyes watched her as she skipped along hand in hand with her father.
“Can tributes … I mean phrenics really do that?” Millis inquired skeptically.
Vox’s reply was rapid, yet concise. “Aye. It’s a well-documented trait, though one rarely revealed,” the phrenic elementalist explained. “She is untrained. The visions are likely new to her. Disjointed. Truth may be harder to distinguish from fiction.”
The explanation was meant to placate. Meant for those who only listened for words alone. Ryl could feel the emotion churning within his phrenic companion.
Inside his own body, the hope of her rescue, a hope that had nearly been extinguished, now blazed with the rage of an inferno.
Chapter 13
The impromptu council continued in earnest after Faya’s timely interruption. Ryl looked around at those assembled before the remnants of the blaze. Respect for all had been earned, not given lightly. Some he trusted as family. The missing voice among the committee was the most troublesome for his mind and heart to accept.
The tributes would again have their voices absent from discussions. Decisions would be made for them without their counsel. The fact irked him, though in the present situation it was unavoidable. Much of what they decided would impact the tributes directly.
The
