The Weight of Darkness (Catalyst Book 5)

by C. J. Aaron

  It had been a meager group of phrenics, unawakened, Vigil and guard who had stormed the Deliverance only days earlier. Their party had been bolstered.

  Ryl’s original companions rode in formation nearly a quarter of a mile ahead of his current position. Their shifts were calculated; some rode while others rested in the wagon they had commandeered. A hundred meters ahead of the carriage, a mounted contingent, riding two abreast, provided the elongated vanguard of the party. The black cloaks of the several hundred Lei Guard flapped in the gentle breeze that blew in from the coast.

  Their return to The Stocks was overdue. Time was fast approaching when they would vacate the protection of the walls, leaving the hideout in the hallowed woods for the hidden city hundreds of miles to the west. Few reports had reached the capital from Cadsae Proper. Word spoke of the army’s dissolution. Others told of the rout of the forces who’d protected the tributes. Ryl felt the agitation grow with every passing moment.

  Would he arrive to find any of his friends alive?

  Would they have heeded the warnings, retreating to the safety of the woods before the forces of the kingdom turned on them?

  They would push on as quickly as they could. He was tied now to a force far more deadly than most could comprehend. The Lei Guard respected power.

  They followed him.

  Ryl’s vision roved over the last of the estates that dominated their vision since leaving the capital behind. He was happy to be rid of the glut of excess that had oozed from every facet of the design of those closest to the city. Here, at the terminus of their influence, he found himself strangely morose. This far outside the capital, the land bordering the road was populated by the tier of society who clung desperately to their wealth and illusion of influence. Too wealthy to be poor, yet far from poor enough to be considered noble. They existed on the fringe of nobility, though one’s wealth was a poor measuring stick for such a classification. He pitied the meager mansions of the last among the honored nobles who vied for the attention of their proximity to Leremont.

  To the throne.

  Whether it was at the hands of the parade of black-cloaked warriors at their head or merely coincidence, the road was eerily quiet. They had passed no one in the last few hours of travel. The events of the last several days had defined the kingdom, set it on a path that it must follow, no matter the struggles. The apprehension was a palpable feeling as it hung heavily over the air.

  Elements within all classes would resist. There was always the possibility of armed conflict. Strife was inevitable. Bloodshed was inevitable. Greed and the thirst for dominance over those who one thought were inferior were ingrained in the very fabric of humanity.

  Simply ending the abhorred process of the Ascertaining Decree and the Harvest was a start. Freeing the tributes was a necessary step, yet there was much yet to be accomplished. Ryl had turned the kingdom over to a youth barely old enough to be a man. His fortitude would be tested in the days to come. Would he stand, or would he fall?

  That was up to him.

  Ryl closed his eyes, tilting his head back, letting the slowly waning sun warm his naked face. There were few times when he rode comfortably outside the security and shadow of his phrenic cloak. Though the security and power of its cover was absolute, he no longer felt the need to disguise his face at all times. It was well beyond time that society learned to accept the brands that marked the necks of those they’d sought to enslave.

  They were free now. A force to be reckoned with.

  A force to be defended at all costs.

  At his side, Andr let out a muffled chuckle at his casual enjoyment of the sunshine. The mercenary had followed him to the edges of the world and back. He was an ever-present staple. Andr was one of the few whom he trusted openly with all. There was a look in his eyes that was disconcerting. A hesitance that was uncommon to his determined manners. His gaze frequently roved over the northern horizon, over the estates to the northern side of the road.

  There was little Ryl could do about the shift in his friend’s mood. The mercenary was tight-lipped in the best of situations. They had grown accustomed to each other’s company. He trusted the mercenary implicitly. He owed him his life. When the time was right, he knew whatever was bothering him would be laid bare.

  Their horses moved at a steady trot, hungrily eating up the miles between them and their destination. A solitary wagon paused at the exit to the last estate to the north. From a distance, he could see the driver and his passengers shrink back as he cautiously watched the column of Lei Guard rumble past. The man at the reins sighed along with his female companion. Their relief was evident as he urged his modest carriage into the road, hastening toward the capital once the soldiers were safely in the distance.

  Without warning, Andr pulled his mount to a stop. Ryl was a few steps shorter, though he circled back, pausing along the mercenary’s left flank.

  “What is it?” Ryl quizzed. The tangent of Andr’s eyes was fixed ahead on the carriage approaching steadily from the west. It was a moment before he replied. His normally confident voice was a whisper as he spoke.

  “Do you remember the last night we left Lord Eligar?” The question was abstract. It took a moment for Ryl to picture the scene of their departure among the naval battle that boomed in the distance. The looks of both Fay and Andr stood out as they spoke discreetly at a distance.

  “Aye, what was it that Lord Eligar needed to say?” he quizzed.

  Ryl watched as the mercenary calculated the words before speaking. The wagon, hastening from the scourge of the Lei Guard, approached with speed. The driver and his companion cast routine glances behind at the apparition that had passed. As they approached, the presence of a third passenger became evident. A female, younger than the pair at the head of the wagon, lounged in the rear, though her discomfort at the column of death that rode past was apparent.

  “Your wisdom, as always, is well beyond your cycles.” He sighed. As he watched the approaching carriage, the pace of his words increased as if powered by an uncommon nervousness. “You’re young enough to be my son, yet it was you who gave him, gave me, the chance, the choice to come to terms with the demons that haunted our past. In the history of The Stocks, Cray might have been the only to have received that opportunity. In the eyes of his father, that is an act truly worthy to be called a blessing of the kingdom.”

  Ryl squinted his eyes as he focused solely on the mercenary at his side. The ramblings were disturbingly uncharacteristic from the hardened warrior.

  “Do you want to see your family, Ryl?” Andr whispered.

  The words rippled through Ryl’s body; he shuddered as the emotions coursed through his veins. The nightmares had plagued his mind for cycles. His father’s face had haunted his dreams nightly, tormenting him as he sought a measure of peace, of rest. Though he struggled to see their faces, he could barely remember his mother. The last fleeting images of his sister were of her face buried in her hands. She’d wept openly into her palms.

  Ryl’s eyes tracked the motion of the wagon as it passed along the opposite side of the road. The driver and passengers still cast frequent glances behind them, watching the backs of the retreating black-cloaked warriors. As the pair in the front turned their attention to his, he felt his heart skip a beat.

  The women closest to him looked tired, withered by the rigors of life. The glow of her skin had faded with subsequent cycles of worry and hardship. The face of the man at her side gave him pause.

  Though weathered by the ravages of age, it was a face he’d recognize anywhere.

  It was the face of his father.

  Ryl felt the emotion surge in his veins. The urge to pull the Leaves from their holsters was fierce. The dark whispers pleaded for the satisfaction only bloodshed could bring. The alexen in his veins were surprisingly still.

  It took a moment to identify the source of the calm that flowed through him. The sensation was not the product of forced emotion. Not the machinations of the divergent pow
ers that flowed through his body.

  It pulsed from him.

  The pair at the head of the wagon viewed him cautiously as they rolled past. Their eyes met, yet the moment was fleeting. No surprise. No recognition dawned on their features. They averted their gazes, concentrating on the road ahead and the threats at their rear.

  The younger woman riding in the rear of the wagon was the last to meet his gaze. She studied the mercenary before watching him carefully for a moment. She too turned away, though there was something about her look that gave him pause. He watched their retreating wagon, listening to the hammering of his heartbeat in his chest.

  Without warning, the young woman in the back of the wagon whipped her head around. Her mouth hung open as the spark of recognition dawned across her features. The color seemed to leach from her face; she stumbled backward into the wagon.

  Ryl met her gaze for a moment before turning his gaze to Andr. The clarity and the peace was sobering.

  “I have them at my side. The rest await under the boughs of the woods,” he replied.

  He cast a single glance over his shoulder at the wagon rapidly receding toward the capital. His sister had covered her mouth with her hands. Tears streamed down her face. The look was not unlike the last he’d seen of her so many cycles earlier.

  “Let’s go.” Ryl’s voice was emphatic. “There’s nothing for me here.”

  Andr grinned as he offered a subtle nod.

  Ryl pulled the cloak up over his head as he spurred his horse toward the west.

  FROM THE PUBLISHER

  Thank you for reading The Weight of Darkness, book five in Catalyst.

  We hope you enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed bringing it to you. We just wanted to take a moment to encourage you to review the book on Amazon and Goodreads. Every review helps further the author’s reach and, ultimately, helps them continue writing fantastic books for us all to enjoy.

  If you liked this book, check out the rest of our catalogue at www.aethonbooks.com. To sign up to receive a FREE collection from some of our best authors as well as updates regarding all new releases, visit www.aethonbooks.com/sign-up.

  JOIN THE STREET TEAM! Get advanced copies of all our books, plus other free stuff and help us put out hit after hit.

  SEARCH ON FACEBOOK:

  AETHON STREET TEAM

  About the Author

  CJ Aaron is an American Fantasy Author who relocated from the four seasons of the northeast to the nearly perpetual sauna of the third coast.

  When he isn’t writing fantasy, you can find him working as a jack of all trades in the digital world or spending time with his wife, two children, two dogs, two cats and an ever-changing menagerie of foster animals.

  Raised on a steady diet of fantasy and science fiction, he is still an avid reader, lover of movies, video games and pretending to be a musician.

  I’d love to hear from you if you have any questions, comments, feedback, etc.

  To stay updated on all my works, and to receive the occasional FREEBIE, sign up for my newsletter. I promise, it’ll only be one email a month. No Spam!

  cjaaron.com/newsletter