“Let’s get the horses inside the gate,” Ryl muttered as they moved steadily forward. He released the meager gout of wind he’d formed around his right arm in a wide, yet gentle arc over the horse at his side, washing clean the flecks of ash that had accumulated from the fire. The jolt of energy as his fingers closed around the worn wooden handle of the Leaves erased the festering sense of dread that had swelled since his vision spied the yawning black mouth of the gate.
A brilliant green light flashed out before them as the legendary weapon came to life in his hand. The infinite blackness resisted. The darkness within the enclosure refused to give a glimpse of the interior it disguised. For a moment, the solid darkness resisted the encroaching light. Ryl pointed the flaming weapon at the darkened maw, steadying himself in anticipation. Without warning, the overpowering glow of the blade shattered the blackened defense. As the first rays of green light stretched into the interior, Ryl breathed a momentary sigh of relief.
The sudden, uncontrollable fear that had threatened to paralyze him had been as powerful as it was sudden. He’d faced legions of the Horde. Willingly stared down an army of thousands, yet it was the darkness beneath the stone ceiling of a gatehouse that threatened to overwhelm his strength.
As the apprehension faded, the discomfort that had been riddling his left arm vanished as quickly as it had come. For a moment, he issued an internal curse at the mysteriousness of the alexen that ran freely through his veins. Though he had found mastery of the skills they provided, he was ever the slave to their cunning ambition. He delved his memory for the answer to the sudden pain, yet unsurprisingly he found none. The alexen, to an extent, still possessed a will of their own. Though he scorned the decision, he accepted that they would allow him to understand the cause in due time.
The complete lack of comprehension was still alarming. His first experiences with the tingling sensation in his arm had blossomed during the battle with the Lei Guard atop the bridge. The answers he sought then were shrouded in intrigue. They ran from his internal prying, far fleeter of foot than he could hope to catch. The questions he probed with now were met with a chilling cold defeat. They shattered as does pottery cast against a stone wall.
For the moment, the sensation had passed. There would undoubtedly be time to ponder the meaning and seek understanding later. Now was not the time.
Ryl focused again on the shadowed mouth of the Pining Gate. The ground was soggy as they approached. The stale odor of the recently burnt wood seemed to rise from the earth as their feet squished in the wet soil beneath. They paused at the edge of the darkness. There was no call needed to open the gate formed by the sheer blackness that stood before them. The glow of the green blade illuminated little inside the interior. Though it was faint, it was enough to tell that it was deserted. The only recess in the hollowed-out structure was the door along the left wall leading into the belly of the palisade and the barracks beyond.
Ryl looked to his right, meeting eyes with Aelin. The look on the youngster’s face was conflicted. His eyes twinkled with the light of hope, yet his lips were drawn into a pensive scowl. Thin lines extended from the corners of his eyes as he squinted to make sense of the shadowed scene before him.
“I’ve seen this before, Ryl,” Aelin whispered. His admission caught Ryl off guard.
“The shadows inside this gate have haunted my dreams since I was delivered to this cursed place,” Aelin admitted. “I know that the free city lies beyond that gate, yet the darkness inside still feels too thick to pass.”
Ryl grinned as Aelin related his dreams. It was all too familiar to him.
“Aye, my friend, though I don’t rightly understand. I admit that I dread it now nearly as much as I did then,” Ryl acknowledged. “For cycles, the hatred that lived inside the blackness of that opening haunted my dreams.”
He turned his eyes again to the interior of the gate, surveying the opening again.
“The night before my Harvest, those dreams changed,” Ryl whispered. “Perhaps it was the powers I’d discovered hidden within or the truth of the history that had been denied for ages. The hope that had sustained my existence for so long seemed to pale in comparison to one thing. I could stand against the darkness. I could overcome the hatred that had held me down though I couldn’t defeat it. Do you know who it was that came to my aid?”
Aelin’s eyes were wide. He shook his head slowly, though his anticipation was evident.
“It was you,” Ryl answered. “It was you I saw. You strode forward with fearless, unwavering confidence. Though the claws from the darkness within slashed at you, you stepped onward still, undaunted.”
“Did they get me?” Aelin squeaked.
“No, they fled from you. Those who didn’t froze in your presence,” Ryl answered. “There was no escaping the torrent of power that flowed from within me then.”
Aelin nodded subtly.
“Then it’s good I came. There’s a reason for my being here aside from my thirst for revenge.” Aelin spoke plainly. “Something in the forest called to me. It whispered to me. A voice I could hear and feel, even while the effects of the remedy held me down. It urged me to leave. Its voice was worried. Anxious. It was scared. I had to come.”
Ryl couldn’t argue with the statement. The Erlyn was ancient beyond all records. The description had all the trappings of her call. He recalled the uncontrollable urges, the pull that moved his
