The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4)

by C. J. Aaron

  The darkness of the night swallowed them as they moved down the drive leading to the main road. Ryl could see the shadowed figures of Breila’s guards patrolling stealthily across the open expanses of land around them.

  “I’m glad you’re here, my friend,” Ryl admitted. “If who I seek is there, we will part ways at the bridge. I will need my focus, my concentration for what lies inside those walls. Your presence will serve only as a distraction.”

  Fay opened his mouth to argue. The quiet inhale of air was audible. Ryl cut him off before he could continue.

  “Take no offense to the statement,” Ryl added. “There are but a few of those who I would willingly allow to accompany me. One is whom I seek to rescue. Even Andr, as trusted as a companion, friend and warrior, would not be one of them.”

  Lord Eligar seemed to chew on the idea for a moment as he exited the darkened lane to Breila’s estate, turning right, westward on the Kingsway. Fay nodded, ordering a short command to the pair of his guards mounted on horseback by the entrance to her estate.

  The sensation Ryl had felt throbbing in his arm escalated as every step brought them closer to the garrison. The looming darkness that appeared at the extent of his vision remained. Though it stayed tantalizingly distant, its size and scope frustratingly undefined, he could feel its focus. Whatever evil lurked in the garrison was aware of his presence.

  It beckoned him to it.

  Ryl longed for concrete verification that Kaep was present. That she was unharmed. The alexen in his veins churned with growing ferocity as he approached. The burning escalated as every passing scan with his mindsight failed to reveal her signature. He had grown so accustomed to the welcoming warmth of her presence, the emptiness without her was profound.

  He shook off the chills that blanketed him. He rubbed his hands over the exposed skin of his arms to stave off the gooseflesh that covered them. Fay appraised him curiously. The lord motioned with his arm as he disappeared into the shadowed void created by the newly snuffed-out lanterns of the Kingsway.

  Ryl spoke before the confused lord was able to form the words.

  “It is wise that you remain in the shadows, my friend,” he said. “My presence is well known. Those who watch this road are aware of my approach. There will assuredly be battles ahead in which your blade will be needed. This is not one of them.”

  The pair walked in silence after Ryl’s explanation. The wide cobblestone road made for easy travel, even as Fay lingered in the shadows along its edges. The silence of the night was nearly absolute. For a time, only the light thumps from their feet padding on the stone roadway broke the monotony of the calm. Even the insects seemed to pause, watching in quiet anticipation as they passed.

  A gust of wind jostled the flowing cloak that stretched out in Ryl’s wake. The regular, calm, cooling breeze from the sea seemed to shift as the heated gust of air pushed from the west. The salty brine from the water was replaced with a stagnant aroma that made his nose scrunch in disapproval. Much like the day, the night had been clouded with thin wisps of clouds. The quick-moving haze blotted out small sections of the star-filled sky before dissipating or moving leisurely wherever the wind took them.

  To the west, a pair of bright flashes of light in the distance illuminated the horizon and billowing masses of clouds hovering low over the landscape. Ryl snarled at the approaching storm, pulling his hood up over his head. The rain wouldn’t stop him.

  If Kaep was there, he’d soon know.

  Together, they passed by several entrances to estates bordering the northern and southern sides of the Kingsway. Though hidden in shadows, private guards of the households they protected were present at each. Ryl and his companion left them be, so they paid them no mind. The wind grew, forcing itself upon them as they proceeded to the west. The whistle of its passing drowned out the sound of their footsteps on the pavers. The sloshing of fast-moving water rose as the wind created turbulence in the delta.

  A flash of lightning lit the sky. The jagged bolt tracked from the north to the south, lighting the clouds as it went. It stabbed down to the earth far off to the west.

  The sudden illumination temporarily exposed the structure that, to this point, Ryl had only seen from a distance. The complex spanned several hundred meters across, protected on all four sides by a substantial wall of stone. Though not nearly the height or width of the mighty palisade, which loomed over them as they continued onward to the west, it was a formidable defense against any force attempting to enter its midst. Along the western edge of the river, the wall extended into the water, cutting off all attempts to skirt the structure on foot.

  The bridge represented the only easy access into or out of the walled complex.

  In the center of the garrison, a larger structure rose above the rest. Though buildings rose to the level of two floors, the main citadel in the center easily doubled that. In the darkness, backlit only by the errant flashes of light from the distant storm, it loomed over the rest. A dull black rectangular monolith.

  While lanterns flickered along the walls, no motion appeared along their peaks.

  The throbbing pain in his left arm increased. With it came a whisper. The foreign grumble he’d experienced earlier. It berated him in a language he failed to understand, though its vicious intent was clear. Images of gore. Rippling pools of blood wide enough to be lakes. Severed limbs and body parts of men, women and children. Ryl shook his head, trying desperately to be rid of the image. He squeezed his hand into a fist, letting his fingernails dig into his skin. The discomfort was a temporary distraction. He struggled to turn his attention, his focus, back to their immediate surroundings.

  Ryl and Fay had slowed their pace as they neared the bridge to the garrison. The river from the north widened dramatically from where it spewed from underneath the palisade. From the rocky, sloping eastern side bank to the stone wall of the garrison, it spanned one hundred meters from side to side. A single massive stone pillar jutted up from the water in the center of the river, supporting the structure above.

  Entirely made of stone, the surface was wide enough to easily accommodate two carriages abreast. A low wall along each side prevented any from an accidental plunge into the churning waters below. At the end, a heavy wooden door barred entrance into the fortification beyond. There were no lights on the bridge this evening.

  Breila’s men had done an admirable job dampening the lights lining the street leading from Cadsae Proper. Ahead of them, a single lantern hung from a pole before the entrance to the bridge. The halo of light from its modest flame shifted wildly as it swung in the growing wind.

  Ryl stopped. He breathed in a deep breath as he scanned the area ahead with his mindsight. The racing of his heart matched the quickening sensation of the alexen as it thundered through his veins.

  There was no denying the image that flashed into his mind now. A single orb of glowing golden light throbbed in the distance. Ryl needed no further investigation to understand whom he was looking at. He would recognize that signature among any.

  It was Kaep.

  He’d found her.

  The darkness that had plagued the extent of his vision seemed to have withdrawn, though the discomfort in his arm continued unabated. The blackness was still there. Taunting him.

  The excitement he felt was exhilarating. He resisted the urge to drink deep from the speed that flowed through his veins. The desire to rush headlong into the garrison was potent. There would be none to stand in his way as he fought for her freedom. At least none who would survive to tell the tale. The feeling was rash. Impulsive, urging him onward with a force that was foreign.

  Fay’s voice from the shadows at his side snapped him from his sudden impulsive charge forward.

  “Ryl, Ryl, are you alright?” Lord Eligar whispered to him from where he remained concealed in the deep shadows along the edge of the track. There was a tangible concern that tinted his voice. Ryl nodded subtly, though he refused to take his eyes off the garrison in the distance.r />
  “She’s there, Fay,” he growled.

  “That’s good news, Ryl,” Fay acknowledged. “I have archers on the banks to the north and south of the bridge. I took the liberty of planting a charge along the lower stanchion where the roadway meets the pillar. I aim to bring it down if I have to.”

  Ryl looked at Lord Eligar lurking in the shadows to his left. He could see the glimmer of the streetlamp ahead reflect off his teeth as his lips curled into a wicked grin. He strained his eyes into the gloom to the south. There were perhaps a half dozen darker shapes silhouetted against the lighter shade of the rolling water. A soft nickering of a horse was audible over the sloshing of the river.

  A breath of wind carried from the west, stronger than its predecessors. The air was heated, disturbingly warm compared to the temperature that surrounded them. The humidity made it thick, almost sticky as it brushed past. More like the exhale of a great beast than the leading edge of a storm.

  A sickening stench was carried on the final tendrils of the gust.

  Ryl whipped his head around, glaring to the west. His left hand instinctively fell to the Leaves secured behind his back.

  Along the wall of the garrison, one after another the torches flicked out.

  Something was wrong.

  He scanned frantically with his mindsight as his vision failed him in the darkness.

  Ryl’s head swam, foundering for air as the depth of the blackness hammered into him.

  No longer could he see Kaep.

  There was nothing but blackness filling the void where her signature had remained.

  Something was horribly wrong.

  A low rumble preceded the bolt of lightning that split the sky. For a moment, the garrison and the opposite side of the river were illuminated with a flash of daylight.

  Lining the vacant tops of the garrison walls was a crush of bodies. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they covered every inch of the space, their hoods pulled up over their heads. A line of faceless specters. From either side of the garrison, along the riverbank, bodies stretched north to the base of the palisade and south to the sea, their elongated, distended bodies jostling in place. They stood row upon row deep.

  The Lei Guard.

  The Outland Horde.

  He had been deceived.

  A solitary note rose from somewhere deep among the ranks of the demons.

  A low howl grew in intensity as it split the night.

  Chapter 37

  A vocalization of pure anger, raw and unrestrained, swelled from the ranks of the Horde on the opposite bank. The deep rumble grew into a roar. The volume rose as it boomed into a deafening peal. Its pitch shifted higher and higher as it added more layers of emotion to its cry.

  Hatred.

  Fear.

  Ryl was prepared for the wave of crushing emotion, though the strength of it was astounding. It forced him back a step as it slammed into him like a hammer. To his side, he saw Fay crumple under the weight of the assault. There was a splatter of chucky liquid on the ground as the young lord retched up the contents of his stomach.

  With effort, Ryl fought back against the dark emotions. He countered the hatred, the oppression, with hope and calm. It formed a tenuous circle of light around him. The atmosphere had darkened under the currents of the wave of emotion from the Lie Guard. The air that surrounded Ryl shimmered with a glow that seemed to be emanating from his core.

  Fay struggled to his feet, wiping the bile that had splattered on his lips and cheek with his sleeve. Across the bridge, the door to the garrison groaned as it burst open. Lightning in the distance flashed, highlighting the surge of demons pouring from the interior of the fortification. They moved without a war cry, announcing their approach with the clacking and scraping of claws on the stone roadway.

  The Horde flowed from the gates by the hundreds. Harriers jockeyed and clawed for position. They were eager for the taste of blood. The Lei Guard maintained their emotional assault, yet they remained atop the wall of the garrison.

  Ryl wrenched the Leaves free from their holsters. The brilliant glow of green fire exploded around him as the serrated blades flashed into existence.

  “Fay,” Ryl cried, “stay behind me. Stay close. It’s your only chance to make it out of this alive.”

  Fay had regained his footing, though he wobbled mightily. Ryl knew that Lord Eligar’s mind reeled as a war of competing foreign emotions raged in his head. One attempted to crush him under the weight of despair, devastation and fear. The other sought to empower, to lift his spirits, filling him with hope. His body was stuck in limbo. He stumbled as he followed Ryl’s orders. He slipped the sword from his holster, clutching it in front of his body with both hands. The blade wobbled as his body shook like a leaf jostled in the wind.

  A torrent of air ripped around Ryl as the power surged around his right arm. Small tendrils of green flame joined the whirlwind that whipped around his feet.

  Lightning flashed in the sky as the storm raged in the distance.

  The crowded mass of the Outland Horde belched from the garrison in a steady flow. To the southern side of the fortification, the demons waited. Though agitated by the release of their companions, they resisted plunging into the raging, icy waters to cross the gap. To the north, along the wall of the palisade, the scene made Ryl’s blood run cold. One after another, the blackened demons leapt across the narrowed channel where the river exited The Stocks. There were several already on the eastern bank. Most hastened toward his flank; several darted to the east.

  Toward Cadsae Proper.

  As the flash of light illuminated the scene, another beast attempted the feat. Its measured leap fell short. It uttered a muffled shriek as it was swallowed by the icy current below.

  Momentary panic set in.

  The alexen charged frantically through his veins, their energy coursing through his body. The throbbing in his left arm reached an excruciating level. The foreign whisper that had urged bloodshed and sought wanton destruction was now strangely silent.

  Ryl’s mindsight scanned again, a natural response to the situation.

  There was no sign of Kaep.

  The blackened shapes clouded his vision.

  With the Lei Guard at their side, they were a force too great for Ryl to handle alone. The charge of bodies crossed the center point of the bridge. Now less than fifty meters separated him from their charge.

  How many could he cut down before they swarmed over him like a rogue wave from the sea?

  Ryl surged forward, covering half the distance between himself and the charge in a flash. He screamed with rage and frustration as he swung the glowing blade in his right hand, releasing the wind at the same time.

  A searing wave of green fire and wind arched into the approaching Horde. The lead element bore the brunt of the attack, though its effects were still dramatic several rows behind. Lanky harriers wailed in agony as the fire and wind severed appendages, ripping them from their bodies. They were tossed backward into their charge, blown like leaves in the wind.

  Bodies flailed with wild abandon that matched only their frantic shrieks as they careened into their companions. The Horde on the outer edges of the bridge were thrust over the sides of the low stone banisters, plunging into the churning waters of the river. Many were brought to their knees, toppled by the uncontrolled tumble of those in the lead. Hundreds were displaced by Ryl’s initial assault.

  His attack slowed them for only an instant.

  The Horde were heartless. Emotionless save for their killing instincts, hatred and rage. They stampeded over their companions, slashing at them with their deadly claws. They tore apart their brethren who struggled to regain their footing.

  From the north, the sickening cries of agony rose from Lord Eligar’s men as the flanking Horde fell upon them. Even if they knew the assault was coming, they would never have stood a chance. The paralyzing wash of emotions from the Lei Guard swelled again in response to his counterattack.

  “Fay, the bridge,
” Ryl screamed over his shoulder. “Take it out.”

  Fay swayed on his feet nearly ten meters behind where the roadway met the bridge. He was illuminated in the swinging light of the lone streetlamp. His vision darted from the north to the south. His face was awash with pure terror and revulsion.

  Ryl dipped into the power as he retreated to his friend’s side.

  He focused his emotions, pushing the wave of calm, hope and light over Lord Eligar’s soldiers hidden along the river back to the south.

  “Bring the bridge down,” Ryl screamed as the emotions surged from his core.

  The feeling was desperate.

  A sinking sensation threatened to topple him from his feet.

  Ryl could not succeed here on his own. He was outmatched. Overpowered.

  The moments that stretched by seemed like an eternity with no response. At last, sparks broke the darkness of the night. Flames jumped to life as the fuel-soaked wicks of a trio of arrows caught fire.

  Ryl watched in horror as the first sailed wildly into the churning water.

  “Fay, take the horse,” Ryl growled. “Warn your troops. Warn Breila and Aelin. Fall back to The Stocks.”

  The lord hesitated for a moment. He clutched his sword, squeezing the blade hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Ryl could see the determination to join the fight. The animosity of disgust at the massacre of his troops loomed over him like a cloud.

  “Go. Now,” Ryl screamed.

  Fay snapped from his resistance. He scrambled to the south, stumbling as he charged toward the waiting horses.

  The flaming trail of the second arrow sparked as it slammed into the stone side of the bridge.

  The Horde was upon him. With a feral growl, Ryl unleashed the speed that flowed within his veins. The incoming charge slowed as he fell into them with the unrestrained wrath of a storm. Behind him the hoofbeats of a retreating horse echoed like thunder in the night.