The Weight of Darkness (Catalyst Book 5)

by C. J. Aaron

  Ryl took a moment to survey the sea that surrounded them. The diffused light from the moon, hidden by a thick covering of clouds, did little to provide much in the way of details. The undulating blanket of water stood out as only a slightly lighter shade of darkness, though here and there the caps of the waves sparkled as they reflected the muted light from above. The frigate that had deposited them into the sea was nothing more than a large shadow of deeper black, set against the backdrop of darkness.

  To their west, the thunder of the naval battle continued, though its intensity had diminished. The sporadic explosions that flashed and roared were all directed to the north. The battle, though a surprise, had been one sided. Lord Eligar’s troops had defended themselves well, though it was uncertain at what cost. The cannon fire now was halfhearted, likely more to keep the vessels from the kingdom at bay rather than their destruction.

  Ahead there was only a gently rolling sea and darkness. They were yet too far and there was too little light to make out any details of the shoreline in the distance. The small skiff carrying the remainder of their force was only a small smudge on the horizon even though they were separated by less than thirty meters. They followed the visual cues of the disturbance created by their wake, though Ryl could see the signatures of the phrenics aboard clearly with his mindsight.

  It wasn’t long before the battle to their west ceased entirely. A pinpoint of flickering light had grown in the darkness as the cannon fire came to a thundering end. What started as a small disturbance quickly swelled into a raging fire that stretched high into the air as it consumed the wooden vessel. Ryl watched with a sense of morbid curiosity as sailors worked to douse the flames that threatened to consume the ship. The light danced off the rolling waves, sparkling with a mesmerizing array of orange, red and yellow.

  Without warning, the flames of the doomed vessel disappeared, concealed by a massive shadow. Ryl felt his heart skip a beat as Andr whispered the warning before he could voice his.

  “Hold on,” the mercenary hissed as he leaned hard to his side against the rudder.

  Ryl braced himself against the wall of the vessel while he focused on the illusion. Their small craft tilted dangerously to the right as they avoided the collision with the fleeing vessel. The gunnel to the left ran just above the waves, the right side angled high into the air. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the images of his desire. The vision was clear in his mind, though he only hoped the application was as well done.

  He concentrated on the sea that surrounded the two small ships where he and his companions hastened toward the shore. He disguised the vessels with an image of rolling waves of the open sea. Where each of his company’s vessels cut through the water, he cast the image of a single log of innocuous driftwood. Though the application of the skill felt finely tuned, perfected by countless cycles of practice, his confidence was still shaky. He felt the weariness grow exponentially as he worked to cover the two locations. In the darkness, perfection was not a necessity. Crude details would suffice, as they were aided by the gloom of the cover of darkness.

  For a few perilous moments, their meager craft tilted dangerously to the side. The leading edge of the passing vessel’s wake slammed into them just as they reached an upright position. Salty water splashed over the edge of the boat as they were tossed mercilessly to the opposite side of the vessel. Ryl found his body crushed against the mast. His head rebounded against the unforgiving wood. The breath rushed from his lungs as he toppled to the soaking wooden floor.

  The effort it took to remain conscious was intense. Holding the illusion as well was monumental as his head clouded with confusion. It was as if a thick mist settled over the clarity of his thoughts, masking everything in a distorted haze. He felt his body waver dangerously close to the edge of the darkness of unconsciousness. He heard voices; though muffled, they were intent, focused. The grips of strong hands wrapped around his arms, hoisting him back to his knees. A stiff breeze accompanied the salty spray whipping over them.

  As he blinked away the confusion, the truth of their position dawned with startling clarity. At first he thought his vision was blurred, an unintended consequence of the blow. The entire horizon of the night sky to his front seemed to race past at a dizzying speed. Without warning, the vision cleared; the disturbing reality dawned on him. What had appeared to be the blurring of the night was in fact the vessel that had very nearly crushed them. The disturbance in the air had been a product of their passing.

  He followed the black shadow, only slightly darker than the night sky, as it plowed through the sea to their right. To the east.

  “Ryl, are you ok?” Andr hissed. His voice carried a hint of agitation as if he’d been speaking for some time without garnering a response.

  Ryl felt his body sink further forward as the pressure of the hands that held him aloft released. His descent was arrested quickly. Casting a quick glance at the shadow of the passing ship, he let the remains of the illusion fade. He leaned heavily against the mast, leaning his head back against the waterlogged wood.

  “Aye, I’ll be fine,” he commented as he slowly slid his body down to a seated position. At the moment, the words lacked the confidence that he felt within his body. There was a chilling emptiness to his veins, though his left arm still felt curiously heated.

  “Can anyone see the others?” Andr continued.

  It was Vox who answered before Ryl could control the mindsight that was now little more than an involuntary response.

  “Fear not, they move to the north with speed.” Vox’s voice was reassuring, though Ryl needed the visual confirmation to set his addled mind at ease.

  With effort, he brought his own mindsight to bear. A sense of relief surged through his body as he clearly noted the shapes of the phrenics as they continued ahead.

  “Hold on, I’ll turn us toward shore,” Andr whispered as he eased the boat to the north. Ryl curled his legs in, hugging them to his chest as he cowered on the wet floor of the skiff. He could feel the worried eyes of the unawakened on him. Cray sat on one side, Tash on the other. Palon crouched a pace ahead, seemingly impervious to the undulations of the sea or movement of the small craft. The massive frame of Ramm squatted nearby as well.

  Ryl smiled as he viewed the phrenic. Ramm’s oversized frame was out of place on the narrow skiff. The phrenic noted his stare.

  “I for one will be happy to have my feet back on dry ground again,” the phrenic growled, though the white of his teeth illuminated the grin that split his face.

  The moment of distraction was interrupted by the jarring sound that erupted from the east. A thunderous cracking and groaning of wood split the renewed still of the night. Even from a distance, the nondescript screams and curses of the sailors aboard carried across the water.

  “They hit the reef,” Ramm grumbled. All eyes aboard turned toward the sound of the disturbance. Though the snapping of timbers had silenced, the shouting could still be heard as the crew worked to regain some semblance of control. A dull orange hue seemed to swell around the edges of the grounded ship, illuminating the troubled vessel. The glowing border presented an image of the large vessel tilting dangerously to its side. At least one of its massive masts had snapped; the jagged splinters of its remains stabbed downward at an angle over the edge of the vessel.

  Pinpoints of light sprouted from its deck as the crew scrambled to light lanterns to assess the damage. The element of surprise had been long since ruined; there was little need for subtleties now.

  “Was that one of Lord Eligar’s fleet?” Tash asked from his position leaning against the gunnel of their craft. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  “It’s doubtful that it was one of Fay’s,” Andr noted. “The fleet had already begun turning south to avoid the reef; the cannon fire from his ships was much further out to sea. Though dimly illuminated, Fay’s fleet burned lanterns. This ship was running in the dark, likely disheartened by the overwhelming response to their doomed attack
.”

  Ryl nodded his head in agreement with the sentiment. The fog that had settled over his mind lifted further with every passing moment, like rays of the sun piercing through the clouds; the clarity returned, illuminating his thoughts and understanding in brief, though widening patches. He could feel the warmth of the alexen return slowly to his veins as he recovered rapidly from the effort.

  “There’s little we can do to help them now,” Ryl acknowledged.

  His sentiment turned out to be more clairvoyant than he had intended.

  A moment later, the sky flashed with the light of day. The tragically listing ship flashed for an instant, a black silhouette amidst a blinding ball of light. With a thunderous crack, the ship disintegrated, tearing to pieces as the blast shredded it from within. The fireball stretched high into the sky as the flames reached the kegs of powder stored below decks.

  Chapter 28

  The shock wave struck them with a percussive thump. Ryl felt the force of the blast as it hammered his body. Still bracing from the near disaster with the much larger vessel, they were in position to weather the blast with little disturbance. The boat lurched forward as the wave of pressure blew past, snapping the sail at an awkward angle.

  The turbulence of the sea followed a few moments later. The gentle waves rolled; the peaks and troughs were spaced out at a comfortable distance and represented little vertical change. Ryl cringed as he noted the surge that resulted from the detonation of the ship. It stretched easily two meters above the others, moving at an angle that seemed oblivious to the normal machinations of the placid sea. Its peak was jagged, white and frothing with agitation as it barreled toward them. Images of the horrors of the night he and Andr were capsized flashed into his mind.

  Ryl let the wind swell around his right arm as he shouted a warning to the group. He pulsed out a sense of warning, hoping it would reach his companions sailing further ahead in time to prepare for the incoming watery assault. Andr shifted the angle of their boat to avoid being broadsided by the fury of the wave.

  An instant before the wall of water contacted their meager vessel, Ryl released the energy that had built around his arm. With a grunt of exertion, he hammered the wave with the unnatural power that flowed through his veins. The strength he poured into the wind was terrifying; the air rushed from his arm like a maelstrom. Even so, the effort amounted to little in the face of the sea’s fury. The wave parted slightly at the crest; the water that had begun to curl and froth blasted outward behind the swell.

  Their boat again tilted at a vicious angle, this time angling dramatically toward the prow. He wrapped his right arm around the mast, holding the sturdy wooden upright in the crook of his elbow. With his other hand he grasped the closest body to him, twisting his fist, collecting a ball of fabric as they were tossed by the mercy of the sea. Cries of alarm mixed with groans of pain as they were again jostled against the unforgiving sides of the small vessel. Ryl readied the speed in his veins, determined to enter the sea if any should be tossed from the skiff.

  With as much notice as its arrival, the wave released them from its grasp as it rushed onward. Large splashes sounded from their rear as flaming chunks of the doomed ship rained down, hissing as they entered the water. In places, large pieces still remained aflame as they bobbed helplessly on the waves. Where the mighty ship had once rested at an angle, only a single wedge of debris remained, a burning monument to the lives that had been extinguished in the blink of an eye.

  Whether they had been loyal soldiers of House Eligar or the kingdom guards, Ryl mourned the loss of life. They had foolishly attacked under the cover of darkness in an effort to silence the one lord who had stood up to the kingdom’s abhorrent practices. Karma and justice had been swift and devastating.

  His attention turned to his companions, who were all in varying stages of righting themselves after the tumultuous previous few moments on the sea. Thankfully, all were still present aboard the ship. Even in the darkness, he could see the stain of blood that ran down Cray’s face. The phrenics Tash and Palon rubbed gingerly over sore areas, yet none showed any serious signs of outward injury.

  “Is everyone alright?” Ryl asked, earning varying degrees of affirmative responses from each of his companions. Without waiting for an answer, he scanned the sea surrounding them, searching for signs of the other phrenics. Their signatures were easy to locate; both burned brightly slightly east of north from their position.

  “Andr, get us to shore. I want to follow the others,” he added as he pointed in the direction of their signatures. “The phrenics still move at speed, though I have no way of knowing if everyone else is aboard. Keep your eyes to the water.”

  Time seemed to stretch on interminably as they scanned the black waves before them. Though the uncertainty remained, the movement of the phrenics in his mindsight had continued steadily to the north. Had they lost any of their number, Ryl was sure they would have circled back in effort to locate them. Further to their south, lights bloomed from all the vessels, both of the kingdom’s blockade and Lord Eligar’s fleet. Narrow cones of angled light from the lanterns held overboard searched the seas as the nearest of the kingdom’s ships approached the wreckage of their companions.

  There would be none pulled from the sea alive tonight.

  It was with a sense of subdued relief that they reached the shore without incident. The short journey over the sea had only spanned a few miles, yet it had been eventful nonetheless. Their small skiff grounded on the rocky shore with a jarring impact that further jostled the bruised passengers. Ryl was thankful for the relatively calm waters of the sea, as the rocky coastline would have been unforgiving with a heavy surf.

  He was among the last to exit the boat, stretching out his battered and cramped body as his feet reached the dry land. The directions he had provided Andr by using the skills of his phrenic mindsight were sound. He squinted his eyes into the darkness to his right. They had landed less than five meters from their companions’ ship; the blackened outline loomed just to their east.

  “The others wait just ahead,” Vox whispered, motioning the group up the small bank separating the land from the pounding waves of the sea. The coastline here was rocky, yet a short distance ahead, it ended in a thick wall of trees. From the descriptions he had gathered from Millis, Andr and Cavlin, the woods stretched for roughly a mile before thinning into a narrow rolling plain. Less than half a mile later, the Kingsway cut through the grasses, running unimpeded to the capital city to the east. They were still too far west of the sprawling estates of the nobles, yet they would surely encounter them before long.

  Only a few meters into the woods, they reconnected with the remainder of their group. Paasek was the first to meet them; his shadow stepped from behind the cover of a tree.

  “Is everyone well?” Ryl quizzed as he reached out to shake Paasek’s large, stony hand. A wave of relief surged over him as Paelec responded with emotion before the phrenic counselor could respond. He grinned, pivoting slightly, nodding to the phrenic archer, who remained a few meters away, hidden by the darkness of the forest.

  “Aye, only a few bruises,” Paasek confirmed. “Your warning reached us in time. I was able to raise a wedge of stone to part the surge before it struck. Nothing more than a bit of turbulence and spray. From your appearance, we’ll all likely miss the presence of a fire tonight.”

  Water had permeated the clothing of all who had been aboard his vessel, though until the reminder, he had put the thought from his mind. Under the cover of the forest, the wind was still, though thankfully the night had lost some of the biting chill that was not uncommon this early in the cycle.

  “Change if you will, but be quick about it.” Cavlin’s tone was measured though he carried an air of authority that none felt the need or desire to challenge. The secretive guard likely knew the area better than any here, though his story was still shrouded in mystery.

  “There will be plenty of walking to dry your wet clothes,” he interjected. “W
e have many miles to cover tonight, and the shelter of the forest will only protect us for so long. There will be little to hide behind once we reach the outskirts of the estates that stretch along the Kingsway.”

  The reality had troubled him since they had planned their excursion. With the closest bulk of the army roughly a day to the west of their position, there was little to physically threaten their party before reaching the outer defenses of the walled section of Leremont. They were now inside the walls of the forces of the kingdom, both naval and land bound. There was little other reasonable avenue to reach the city.

  Remaining along the coastline was out of the question. Roving naval patrols and the estates’ guards would have recognized the clandestine efforts of the group as they cut across the vast open expanses of their lands. They strived to maintain the element of surprise as they approached the capital city. The kingdom’s navy had struck a blow at Lord Eligar’s fleet, yet they had no indication that it was aimed at anyone other than the young lord himself. They had fired purposefully on the vessel bearing his standard and none other. The captain believed that the blockade would remain thin in the approach toward Leremont; the waters surrounding the capital’s ports would be teeming with vessels. There would be no avenue to sneak into the city there.

  It was a disconcerting proposition that the most realistic and feasible means of approach was also the most visible. Sandwiched between the rings of soldiers, they could move with little to hinder their cause, though patrols were certain. Assuredly, each of the estates would feature a private guard, though they would likely not have a consolidated force at the gates ready to challenge unknown travelers along the road. His biggest fear was information.