The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4)

by C. J. Aaron

  “Aye, Ryl,” she whispered. Her eyes swelled with water. She struggled to hold back the deluge that threatened to spill forth. “You’ve changed. You still glow, yet it’s not the blinding light I recall. There is a dull shadow around the edges. In my dreams, I struggle to see you at all. I fear for you, Ryl.”

  A single tear escaped, tracing a thin line down her cheek.

  Ryl shifted forward, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. He sent a wake of comfort over her quivering frame. Since he’d regained consciousness, he’d noticed the subtle differences as well. Ever since the last of the poison was removed, he’d been acutely aware of his senses, every one seemingly working in overdrive. Scents were amplified. His vision was clearer. Tastes more profound. His hearing was more tuned into the slightest of noises. The information from each touch was exhilarating and complex.

  After the latest encounter with the Lei Guard, however, something felt off. The alexen were still there, yet they moved with an agitated haste. Raging through his veins with a speed that sent tingles through his body.

  “You grow more perceptive by the day,” Ryl acknowledged. “I feel it too. I feel the clouds that blot out the sun.”

  He offered her his left arm. The nearly flawless, blazing sun was now marred with a collection of tiny black splotches.

  Faya sniffled at his admission. She traced her fingers over the image imprinted on his arm.

  “Do not fear for me,” he added. “For I do not fear for myself. My convictions remain the same. I will see the tributes free. I will see Kaep returned.”

  Ryl stood, reaching down and collecting Faya’s hand. She squeezed his fingers tightly yet followed him without hesitation back toward the tree where her father slumbered. For a few moments they walked in silence. Her quiet sob broke the quiet crunch of their feet on the earth.

  “They will need your guidance.” Ryl comforted the youngster. “They will need your council. Do not ever be afraid to give it. They will listen.”

  Faya pulled up several meters before the entrance to the tree that she shared with her father and a mix of guards and tributes alike. She still looked as if she was hesitant to announce what she was feeling. The emotions played out in dramatic succession. First apprehension, then fear, then sorrow.

  “The dreams have all ended the same way, and it scares me,” she blurted out. “You stand alone before a wall of blackness. I can’t see your glow. I fear it’s consumed you.”

  Ryl was taken aback by the admission. An uneasy feeling bubbled up from his gut. He tamped it back down with effort, thinking for a moment, formulating his response before answering.

  “Faya, dear, please don’t fret.” Reflexively, he smiled down at the child, thankful that her sightless eyes wouldn’t witness the forced effort. hoping that the effort didn’t appear forced. “I will return. Kaep needs our help. Though others might question my decision, I, like the rest of you, am free. From now until our last breath. Remember that always. The decisions, the choices you make now, those that you make tomorrow are your own. Hope can be a powerful ally, though if not nurtured, it can spurn you. It can wound you deeper than any blade. Never lose hold of it.”

  Faya threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him in a tight embrace.

  “I will keep hope for you.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before ambling back into the opening of the great tree. Ryl watched her disappear into the gloomy interior before he rose.

  Leaving the tree behind, Ryl angled toward the center of the clearing. As he walked, his hands moved subconsciously to his back. Though he knew the dormant weapons were still there, his mind demanded the confirmation. A trickle of energy rolled up his arm as his hand closed on the wooden handle. The sensation was a comfort to his riddled mind. His conversation with Faya had done little to squelch his concerns. She’d planted a seed of doubt within his mind. Given time, thinking about it would provide it light. Dissecting it to study its merit would give it the energy it required and the attention it craved. In this way, the mind was a fertile breeding ground for the ravages of doubt.

  Ryl made a conscious effort to force the thoughts and emotion from his mind. The task at hand would require enough focus to command his full attention.

  Ahead, all that remained of the roaring fire were the smoldering embers inside the circular pit. A thin trail of smoke lifted skyward, escaping through the clearing in the forest’s canopy above. As he approached, the air was tinted with a hint of smoke. The lingering coals pulsed orange. Two figures were silhouetted against the dull glow.

  The pair stood close together. They were motionless, though he could feel their eyes watching him as he neared. Their hoods were still drawn over their heads. His phrenic companions waited anxiously.

  Ryl stopped as he reached their side, greeting them in turn. Ramm leaned heavily on the massive war hammer at his side. Vox stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Words were not needed to convey the sentiment amongst them.

  They were brethren.

  The phrenics understood each other in ways that were inexplicable. There was no need to argue over the logic of the decisions that needed to be made. Though their emotions struggled with the outcome, their minds understood the necessity.

  Speed was needed.

  If the phrenics moved like the wind, Ryl was the gale.

  Knowledge was power.

  Ryl had cut his teeth in the fertile fields outside the Erlyn’s domain. He knew the lay of the land and the disposition of the city. The phrenics were but strangers in a hateful, foreign environment.

  He would travel light. He would travel fast.

  He would travel alone.

  First Vox, then Ramm, both phrenics nodded their heads in assent. Ryl stepped forward, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. A surge of emotion coursed from his body as the fire raged in his eyes.

  It was hope.

  “Bring her home,” Ramm rumbled. His voice was low, grating, like the grinding of stones together as the earth shook underfoot.

  “I will,” Ryl said. He stepped back, meeting the eyes of his companions once more. With a subtle nod, he pulled the hood up over his head and stalked toward the tree line.

  Chapter 15

  Ryl’s path to the forest’s edge had purposefully angled toward the great tree where he’d awoken. His light pack, filled with nothing more than a waterskin and a paltry supply of rations, waited alongside, tucked out of sight against the roots. They were still in the deep hours of the night; the guards would be light. He wanted few to notice his departure.

  The sentries that Le’Dral had posted were spread out around the perimeter of their forest sanctuary. Their sluggish patrols paced between the trunks of the massive trees, their eyes trained on the wall of woods that surrounded them. In total, the fighting force numbered but few. Many had been pulled from their duties as a soldier to assist with the mender’s charges. They were now nurses, tending to the ailing population that now far outnumbered the hale.

  With stealthy grace, Ryl moved noiselessly across the clearing. His steps quickened. The call for haste was ever present, yet though he could see nothing with his mindsight, it was as if he could sense Elias nearby. The presence called to him. Tempted him onward.

  Timing his approach to avoid the sentry, he skirted the edge of the tree, easily avoiding the sliver of pale illumination that escaped from the doorway. Far across the clearing, a random nickering arose from the horses secured in their makeshift corral.

  Ryl paused for a moment, watching in silence. No sounds of alarm were raised. The horses settled again as he continued onward. Though he moved outside the influence of the light, the waft of putrid odor from the interior caught him nonetheless. Ryl circled around the base of the tree to collect his pack. He stopped short as he realized his supplies were missing from their concealment alongside a root that jutted out further from the others.

  “I’m glad you don’t intend on leaving us for long.” The voice startled him as it whispered from the dark
ness. A shadow separated from the edge of the tree, moving toward him with measured steps. Had the voice not given away his identity, the slight hitch in the step from an injury long healed would have.

  He caught the pack as Andr lobbed it in his direction. The mercenary grinned as he reached his side. Ryl opened his mouth to speak. He was prepared to make his case. There was no force here that could hold him back.

  “She needs you, Ryl,” Andr interrupted before Ryl could find the words. “You don’t need to defend yourself to me, my friend. I know what it’s like to have someone you care about taken from you. There are no limits to the lengths you would go. The end of the world and back is not far enough.”

  The flash of emotion that crossed Andr’s face sent a chill down Ryl’s spine. The mercenary had grown to be his closest friend and most trusted confidant. They’d each been indebted to each other for the lives that still beat in their hearts. He was everything a brother should be. He was everything a father should be.

  “I know the power that flows in your veins,” Andr said. “You’ll stop at nothing to bring her back. Remember that even you have limits. You’ve pushed yourself beyond the brink too many times. I won’t be there to save you if you push yourself too far.”

  Ryl nodded his head absently as he shouldered his pack. The sentiment, while painful, was genuine. And heartfelt.

  “Remember, you have a son who needs to know his father never abandoned him.” There was compassion in Ryl’s voice. He needed no added emotion to convey the feeling. “Tell him, Andr. It’s time he knows the truth. He’s stronger than I remember. He can handle it.”

  Andr’s head lowered momentarily. His gaze focused on the ground between them.

  “Aye, that he is.” Andr’s voice was pained. “I’ve watched him grow from afar for too long. For too many cycles.”

  “They’ll likely wake in six days.” Ryl changed the subject. “Once they are awake and can travel, make for the western palisade. Stick to the forest. The Erlyn will show you the way. When it’s time, she’ll open the pathway.”

  Ryl held his hand out to his friend. Andr grinned as they clasped hands. The mercenary squeezed tight, holding on for a moment longer than expected.

  “Elias is the only one outside our group with the ability to open the pathway to this haven,” Ryl warned. “Though I don’t understand how he can, do not let them be lulled into a false sense of security. He will not likely return, though I do not know if he can instruct others. The Lei Guard were tributes once, and they retain some sway over her. If need arises, ask the woods for shelter. I know there is still safety in these trees.”

  The thought was disconcerting. Ryl had yet to understand how the Lei Guard had made it through the wooded path without resistance from the woods. How had Elias opened the doorway as he fled with Kaep?

  “If I’m not back by the time they’re ready, don’t wait for me.” Ryl spoke with confidence, a conviction that was potent. “The phrenics will guide you home. Take care of them for me.”

  “Good luck, Ryl,” Andr replied.

  With a nod, Ryl turned, closing the gap between the tree and the woods in a few long strides. Under the cover of the night, his passing was nothing more than a fleeting shadow. A darker wisp of black that darted towards the trees.

  There was a rustling of leaves as the pathway opened before him. The telltale sound signaled its closure as soon as his body crossed the threshold into the trees.

  With a thought, Ryl had commanded the woods, opening a pathway toward the main road that bisected the forest. He longed for a destination close to the entrance. Close to the orchard. Tabenville, with its great waterfall and massive statue of Taben the Defender, had been abandoned. There was no reason to return there.

  Ryl slowed as he settled into the forest path. The alley he followed was straight and narrow, lined on both sides by slender trees and impassable bramble. Though free of sticks and more substantial detritus, the pathway was littered with fallen leaves. In varying states of decay, some crushed quietly, while others merely squashed underfoot as he strode forward. Unlike many he’d traveled under the forest’s domain, there was no appearance of maintenance here. The path was open, though the unseen hands that had kept the others clear of all blemish from the forest’s detritus were noticeably absent here.

  The air under the trees was still. The temperature was surprisingly warm as if no breeze ever disturbed the placid environment beneath its arboreal canopy. It was rank with the smell of decaying leaves and a musty odor that heralded the effects of stagnant moisture. In the distance, Ryl could see a narrow opening, nothing more than a slit between the trees, illuminated by the light glow of the shining blue mosses. The gurgle of running water grew as he approached the exit.

  The noise of the river breaking over the rocks was strangely cathartic. So much had happened in the last cycle that Ryl had a hard time wrapping his mind around it. Moving uninhibited throughout the forest, throughout The Stocks was a distinctly unnatural feeling. For cycles, though his movements were in appearance free, he was a slave to the prescribed tasks. There was always someone watching. Someone to answer to if he failed.

  Ryl’s movements, his decisions now were made of his own volition. His purpose and his goals were of his own choosing. The tributes, while lingering in the midst of the troubling sickness, were still free. There was little he could do to aid them in their current state. There were those who could administer the doses of remedy. Those who could apply the cool, wet cloths when the fevers ran wild, and wrap them in the comfort of blankets when their bodies were racked with chills.

  He would in no way forsake their needs. Their freedom, the promise of a better life, a life free from the machinations of those who sought to oppress them, would always be his priority.

  Now, however, his mind was focused on another cause. Somewhere, miles in the distance, Kaep remained enslaved.

  There was little time. He was loath to abandon her to the twisted fate that had befallen so many at the hands of the king. He shuddered at the thought of her strapped to a slab in a nondescript facility somewhere. The steady drip of her blood as it bled from the needle in her veins hammered in his chest, thumping with the beating of his heart.

  The end of the forested path opened along the edge of the river that marked the eastern side of the road through the forest. Ryl had never stepped foot on the opposite bank where he now found himself. He’d never had the cause. The forest for so many cycles had throbbed with an unnerving call. His passing through her midst had always been as rapid as his feet and the shadowed terrain would allow.

  The trees now whispered to him. The call was familiar, yet sung with a sorrow and remorse that were chilling. The Erlyn mourned for the loss of Kaep. It stung from the failure that had befallen under its boughs.

  Ryl paused at the exit of the crude pathway. Only a few steps from the edge of the river, the ground was covered by a layer of moss leading up to a short, but sheer embankment. The sluggishly moving water of the river below lapped against the shore. The hard-packed earth of the narrow trail had given way to soil that was spongy and slick with moisture.

  The water here was close to ten meters wide. Several small slick rocks jutted out from the surface, though none would likely provide adequate foothold. To the left, the opening of the forest loomed in the distance. The trees of the orchard stood out as darker silhouettes against the slowly brightening early morning sky.

  The churning, sluggish rapids of the river at his front presented the most immediate concern. Ryl’s gaze attempted to probe the depths, yet with the absence of light, the rolling water was nothing more than an undulating sheet of blackness.

  The thought of wading through the water was a less than alluring proposition. This close to the source, the waterfall and the pool at Tabenville, the temperature would be frigid. He’d experienced the icy liquid as he dragged the despicable sub-master Osir to the depths. The cold robbed his breath before it closed over his head. Chills ran through his body
at the very thought.

  In both directions, the meandering river maintained its width. To the north, the water disappeared into blackness as the forest consumed the remaining light from stars overhead. The scattered rocks, even with his enhanced agility, were widely spaced and slick from the splashing of the river, presenting a precarious crossing at best.

  The idea struck him, like a spark that caught dry tinder aflame. Ryl turned to the woods at his side, placing a hand on the nearest tree. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, connecting with the forest. He was expecting the flood of information that overtook him as the woods responded to his command.

  Every motion of the individual leaves rustled in his mind. He felt the gentle sway of the wind as it brushed the tops of the trees. The impact of every footfall on the soil of the hidden clearing thrummed through his body, each step a pulse that rattled across the surface.

  Dew was forming on the leaves. He tasted the nourishment of the fresh, clean moisture. The uneven rhythm of thick drops of liquid thundered across his skin. Though separated by lifeless earth, the aftertaste, the sour tang of the inky blackness that leaked from the Lei Guard, turned his stomach.

  Calling on the forest, he probed the trees close by for assistance. Several meters to his right, a young tree, older than a sapling yet still flexible and green, met his need.

  The tree bowed at his request. The top arched downward as it leaned over the river. Ryl felt the pull and twisting of the fibers as it strained into position. He winced at the sharp lances of pain that shot through his body as the growing bark split in places. There was a creaking of wood as it flexed to its limits. He was careful not to push too far, though he knew the tree would cede to his wishes, no matter the severity of the request.

  She had done so in the past. The Erlyn had willingly stripped branches from her limbs, unseating the rider carrying the treatments to Tabenville. The memory of the momentary agony and the lingering sorrow at the loss still were fresh in his mind.