The Weight of Darkness (Catalyst Book 5)

by C. J. Aaron

  “The patrol will not return for some time,” Andr whispered as he came to a stop along his side. “The northernmost of the two towers that guard this section has been reduced to rubble. Le’Dral has commanded no forces to maintain that position. The roving patrol will not return for hours, and by then, darkness will further shroud any activity beneath the trees.”

  Ryl nodded at his companion. Andr released his grip on the handle of the wicked sword that he still bore in a sheath on his hip.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Ryl whispered in response as he crept stealthily forward.

  Filling the gap between the edge of the forest and the stone of the palisade, a narrow patch of only a few meters spanned the gap. The ground was clear from leaves and twigs; a fresh coating of short-cropped green grass covered the soil. The opening stretched for less than ten meters north to south, enclosed at both points by the expected solid bramble and viny walls of the Erlyn.

  Ryl stepped cautiously forward, his feet sinking into the soft cushion of grass underfoot. The alexen in his veins rushed with an unexpected force through his veins. He felt the surge of heat, heavy with excitement and expectation, as it coursed through his veins.

  The blackened cries of hatred, disorder and disarray were not lost beneath the swell of emotion. They had been disturbingly silent throughout the journey from the clearing to the wall. While the alexen had buzzed with anticipation, the blackness from within, the stain of the nexela had been eerily silent. Had the darkness not been privy to his plans? Could he somehow shield the urges from the inner workings of his mind? He allowed himself to ponder the thoughts for a moment, though unexpectedly, he garnished no answers from within. The silence from the wealth of knowledge that flowed within his veins was troubling.

  So much of late had been left up to him to experience. Their plans had been held in secrecy until the last moment when they chose to reveal themselves to him. To the world at large.

  Ryl surveyed the narrow clearing before angling his path around the left side of the tree. The sturdy roots stretched out over the ground for a few meters before spiraling up the trunk. At the base, there was no gap between where the wood met the stone. He inclined his head, tracing the lines of the tree with his eyes. As it rose skyward, it pushed away from the wall, the gap rapidly stretching to several meters, though the downturned branches blocked the view of the top of the palisades. The bark was charred for a span of several meters above his head, though the blackened stain dissipated to the look of the natural wood above that. He rounded the opposite side of the tree, unsurprised to find the situation similar there.

  Without thinking, he idly placed his hand against the bark of the great tree. The connection with the ancient forest was jarring though his hand was rooted to the bark. The commotion caused by the unawakened and the forces that inhabited the forest was clear. He felt every footstep; he sensed every attempt of their fledgling skills. The crack of wood against wood as training swords struck and parried sent ripples of shock through his body. Though the activity was spread out, far surpassing anything he’d experienced prior, the feelings were overwhelmed by a lingering pain, a heat that swelled beyond comforting.

  The trees here had suffered.

  The woods bore the scars of the actions of man. They’d come with fire and shovel, searing their pathway through, filling dirt with stone, severing the roots that connected the great forest to its far-reaching extremities. It was with effort that he broke his connection with the woods; the world around him snapped back into view. His brow glistened with sweat as if he’d been positioned too close to a sweltering fire.

  He turned to his companions, who had remained at the exit of the wooded path. Paasek gently lowered Faya to the ground; her eyes were again glowing with an unnatural light.

  “Why did the Erlyn lead us here, Faya?” Ryl quizzed as she shuffled forward, her eyes looking beyond him, at the base of the massive tree. A childish grin still split her face.

  “Can you not feel it?” she quizzed, though she carried on as if not expecting an answer. “Beyond the stone lies a miniscule patch of woods that once was. Connect the forest, Ryl.”

  With her final cryptic message, the stoic look on her face blanched, replaced by the unnerved guise of a confused child. Ryl sent a wave of familiar comfort over the child.

  “You’ve done well, Faya,” he admonished the startled child. In truth, she had done more than she could realize. With her gift of seeing, her uncanny perception at her young age, the Erlyn had seen in her a means to an end. Ryl stifled the inner chill at the recurring malady of those with the gift of alexen in their veins.

  Though the machinations of the ancient woods were benevolent, those with the alexen were forever being coerced, used against their own will. Their destinies were tied to the fates of so many, yet not entirely in their own control.

  Would they ever truly be free?

  Faya took his left hand, squeezing as he again turned his attention to the massive tree before him. He squinted his eyes, peering into the darkness where her stretching vertical roots twisted as they climbed the trunk. He stretched out his right hand, letting the soft glow of the seed illuminate the wood hidden beneath the shadows. The seed brightened as his hand approached the tree. He hardened the woodskin on his hand as it began to heat beyond the point of comfort.

  Ryl watched expectantly as the warm glow of the light revealed the surface of the tree hidden in darkness. Much as the seemingly impervious shadows of the hoods of the phrenic cloaks concealed their faces, the darkness surrounding the tree behaved much the same. The glow of the seed swelled until it was nearly blinding. He shielded his eyes; the pain from the heat grew considerable, scorching enough that he could have been convinced the small object in his hand was engulfed in flames.

  As his hand approached, the battle between the impervious shadow and the blinding light stretched until it finally broke. With a palpable release of tension, the warm glow of the light bathed the tree, banishing the inky shadows that had covered the bark. The initial emotion that surged through him was a letdown from the buildup. From the pain.

  The light washed across the bark of a tree, partially hidden between roots, that was entirely ordinary. Still, the burning seed in his hand continued swelling with both heat and light.

  Ryl felt his hand move closer to the bark, drawn by a magnetism that defied logic. He could feel the touch of the Erlyn in the pull. His muscles involuntarily fought the foreign manipulation; it was through sheer will that he ceded the control. He sighed as he gave in to the sensation.

  The Erlyn had yet to steer him wrong.

  His hand throbbed with agonizing pulses of energy as he closed upon the bark of the tree. The jolts of heat and suffering radiated outward. The lances of agony shot up his arm, ricocheting through his body. With a final surge, he pushed forward, his fist clenched over the seed, and contacted the bark of the tree.

  The instantaneous relief from the agonizing burning and the blinding glow was startling. The absence of pain was almost as discomforting as the searing that had become a norm. Ryl flexed the muscles in his right hand, gently squeezing the seed that remained in his hand. The object had cooled substantially, though it still retained a portion of its latent heat.

  The great tree shuddered at his touch, even as light as it was. Ryl took an inadvertent step back as the ground trembled beneath his feet. He felt the stony hand of Paasek, heavy, though his grip was gentle on his shoulder, steadying him as the earth shook. Faya had wrapped herself around his legs, holding tight as the world rumbled underfoot.

  Starting at the base of the tree, where the smoother bark met the soil, the wood between the roots twisted. The fibers stretched; in some places, with a sharp cracking noise, the bark snapped. Small shards of woods sprayed outward. Ryl covered his face, protectively shielding the child from the sharp wooden splinters.

  When his eyes returned to the tree, a narrow mouth of an opening yawned where once only wood and roots had remained. A breath of
warm air pushed from the interior, heavy with the scent of earth.

  “Faya, wait here a moment,” he ordered, gently ushering the child to the waiting arms of Paasek. Ryl moved forward, holding the seed before his body. Ducking his head, he entered the narrow doorway into the tree.

  Using the light from the seed, Ryl let his eyes run a cursory investigation of the opening before him. The landing inside was narrow, a little more than a meter wide. The wall ahead was smooth, a pale white, fleshy wood that glistened with moisture. The surface was rounded, curving the left a few steps; the opening seemed to wrap around the core of the tree, descending into the darkness. A staircase consisting of closely fitting roots led down into the earth.

  Ryl proceeded cautiously, searching for footing on the raw wooden steps. The bark of the roots provided traction for his boots. Enclosed on both sides by the interior of the tree, the temperature was surprisingly warm. The alexen in his veins boiled with anticipation; a comforting heat spread throughout his body as he continued further into the depths.

  The inky darkness closed in around as he moved further along the path. The light from the seed held out before him provided a small halo, a glow that pushed back the shadows around his body. Though the gloom that surrounded him was impenetrable to his eyes, he had no fear. The sense of the Erlyn was powerful, growing stronger with every descending step. He guessed that he’d made two full rotations around the interior of the tree, yet the path led onward still.

  The central wooden spire had narrowed, branching off from a single mass into a vast, wide-reaching network of roots. Each individual tendril grew less significant with every step downward until they were nothing more than fibers spread out through the soil. One single tendon, nearly as wide as his wrist, however, wrapped around the circular pillar. It gave the appearance of a railing as it followed the stairs deeper into the earth. The stairs underfoot underwent a similar change, from wood to hard-packed soil, as the central wall. Now his careful footsteps landed on stairs of hard-packed earth. The sounds of the soil crunching underfoot echoed through the narrow corridor.

  The stairs terminated not long after, abruptly exiting into a small opening. The ceiling of the winding path to that point had been low; Ryl found that he needed to duck slightly to keep his head from bumping into slight variations of its height. Stepping into the clearing was a relief; he stretched his legs as the chamber above him stretched another meter overhead.

  He opened his right hand, allowing the light of the seed to flood the room. It was only a moment before the area was bathed in the soft, warm glow resonating from his hand. The opening was largely unremarkable in design, appearing much like a natural cavern in the earth. Only minute fibers of the great tree’s root system reached this depth. They hung from the ceiling, like tiny hairs, or spread out like spiderwebs searching for nutrients along the walls. The solitary root that had followed the path of the stairs, however, remained unchanged, though it snaked along the wall in a seemingly haphazard manner. Its width had yet to diminish though now most of its mass protruded from the wall. Ryl hesitated to touch it for fear that it would separate, collapsing to the hard floor below.

  The wall opposite the end of the stairs was distinctly manmade. He knew in an instant what it was he viewed.

  The cold, drab stone of the palisade blocked his path forward, though it continued further down into the earth below the dirt floor. For a moment, Ryl stood puzzled as he examined the daunting barrier at his front. The wall was several meters thick. It was true that with their control of The Stocks, they could effectively form a doorway, chipping their way through the wall at any point of their choosing. Why then, did the Erlyn bring him here?

  Ryl moved forward, resting his hand against the cold stone. He brushed away a coating of dirt that covered the rock. The alexen in his veins rumbled in response, the memory jolted into his mind.

  Throughout the storied, now forgotten history of the phrenics, there were some whose elementalist powers revolved around stone. One of these masters, a woman named Aily, worked on the construction of the barrier as it cut through the forest. Through an honest oversight of her captors, her group was left undosed one fateful morning. Their revolt and disappearance led to the eventual creation of Vim. Ryl grinned as the answer became clear.

  Though the skill was newly discovered, they had an elementalist who could work the stone among their group.

  Paasek.

  Ryl hastened topside to retrieve his companions. The discomfort was visible across the face of the massive phrenic as he squeezed through the narrow tunnel, though he voiced no complaint. His back was hunched, his knees bent to fit through along the narrow, curving pathway. Andr, on the other hand, had his work cut out for him, keeping up with the boundless youth. Faya, living in her perpetual sightless world, was unfazed by the lack of light or tight quarters.

  With all four of them, the space inside the small cavern was cramped. Paasek seemed slightly more relieved once he was able to stretch his legs beyond the end of the stairs.

  “Freedom stands beyond this wall.” The massive phrenic spoke aloud as he shuffled to the edge of the stone. His head moved subtly from side to side as he surveyed the texture and composition of the stone before him. His eyes ended suspiciously on the roof above his head.

  “I admit that my experience with the skill does not quite equate to mastery,” he grumbled. “Though I’ve the benefit of the experience that flows within the alexen, I fear for the stability of this chamber should I attempt to control the stone here.”

  Ryl agreed with the logic, yet he was overwhelmed by an unnatural sense of security. He felt the workings of the Erlyn in the construction of the disclosed hideaway, though he could not see why the woods would lead them to harm. She had been nothing but a benevolent host to him, to the phrenics and tributes alike since her powers were revealed.

  “I feel your concern, my friend,” Ryl acknowledged. “The Erlyn led us here for a reason. I can’t fathom it being our doom. This is a task that requires discretion. Can you get us through this wall?”

  Paasek nodded in understanding before turning his eyes to the unearthed face of the palisade. Ryl watched as the phrenic studied the stones before him. He ran his hands along the wall, wiping free the layer of dirt. He squared his body before inhaling a massive breath. His shoulders rose, his hulking figure swelled as he placed his hands on the wall. A small haze of dust formed around his body as the force of his steady exhale disturbed the loose sediment on the stone.

  For a moment, he was silent. The dim light provided by the seed highlighted his form as he concentrated on his task, his head lowered. From where he stood, Ryl couldn’t see if his forehead rested against the wall or not.

  “I can feel through the stone.” His voice was airy, yet still gravelly, somehow detached from his normal tone. “The soil is perhaps a meter below.”

  His shoulders rose and fell with another deep breath.

  “Brace yourselves,” he grumbled. “I’ll begin.”

  As Paasek exhaled, the change in his posture was profound. His shoulders tightened; the normally angular feature of his shoulders sharpened. The skin on his tattooed right arm seemed to melt with the structure of the stone. His hands contracted, his fingers cutting deep gouges into the rock.

  The stagnant atmosphere of the chamber grew heavy.

  To his side he heard Faya gasp. She squeezed herself tightly to Andr’s side. Her mercenary protector shot Ryl a cautious glance before resuming his survey of the small cavern. A low rumble sounded, a deep grating as if stone were grinding on stone. The sound soon manifested with physical force as the ground quivered underfoot.

  Ryl struggled to maintain his calm as bits of loose earth separated from the walls around them. Tiny chunks of stone and dirt fell from the ceiling as the thin shoots of the tree’s roots swung side to side as if jostled by a gentle breeze. He felt his heart rate increase; the pounding in his chest grew steadily as the snaking root along the chamber’s wall broke free. F
rom where it separated, the chain reaction was unstoppable. Spreading out in both directions, it peeled from the wall, crashing to the floor in a shower of dirt, dust and debris.

  Yet still the chamber held firm.

  Propped against the wall, Paasek still labored on. The strength of the phrenic was beyond question, yet Ryl understood all too well the toll, the physical and mental exertion, an unrefined, unpracticed skill would require. Too many times had he experienced the chill, the icy internal torment of forcing his body, the alexen beyond their bounds.

  The phrenic leaned forward, pushing against the stone whether purposefully or out of sheer exhaustion. The grating of stone against stone grew more pronounced. Paasek’s fingers curled, tearing off chunks of stone as they bored into the wall. He growled, an involuntary force of sheer exertion as he pushed forward with all his might, his strength.

  His body lunged forward. From where his hands dug into the palisade’s base on either side of his body, the stone caved inward under his force. The ground underneath his feet gave way. He toppled inward with the stone and earth.

  A puff of heated air and a cloud of thick grey dust choked out the light. His body disappeared into the gloom.

  Chapter 19

  Ryl refused to wait until the cloud that obscured his vision cleared before rushing to his friend’s side. Though he still clutched the seed carefully in his right palm, he let the wind swell around his tattooed arm. With a wide unfocused arc, he released the air, knifing through the dust.

  The heavy earthen cloud settled around the room, revealing an opening in the rock ahead. Ryl ducked under the jagged entrance, peering into the darkness. Down a steep yet shallow decline, Paasek lay on a pile of dirt and stone. Ryl slid down the natural ramp, skidding to a stop on the loose soil at his friend’s side. He released a pent-up sigh of relief as he noted the slight rise and fall of his back. A small puff of dust pushed away from the phrenic’s face with every breath.