Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2)

by C. J. Aaron

  Andr placed a comforting hand on Ryl’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.

  “As much as we owe Vim a debt for saving our lives, I'd be a fool to believe that you'd be content to linger here indefinitely,” Andr admitted. “They’ve created a unique society here, one that is half militant, half an artistic wonder. I’ve only spent a short time in the company of their Vigil, yet have to admit that they are impressively skilled. If all are trained to fight even half as well as their guard, as they profess, then the whole of Vim would provide a more than worthy adversary for any fighting force I've known. And that is not to mention their phrenic warriors.”

  Andr rose from the couch, crossing the room, filling a cup of water from the pitcher on the table. He cautiously swirled the liquid putting his nose into the glass, sniffing it before bringing it to his lips. Ryl laughed to himself as he watched the mercenary. He found himself mimicking the action before drinking as well. The overlaying paranoia of encountering any residue from the horrid smelling remedy was still fresh in his mind.

  “The gifts you possess were not meant to linger unused, hidden away in secrecy,” Andr reassured. “Though I know not why, we were sent here for a purpose. I urge you to take advantage of the information you can gain. Do not rush into uncertainty unprepared. If there is a way back to The Stocks, I know you will find it.”

  Ryl couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the reassuring comment from his friend. He was thankful for his company and his steadfast support. He would have perished if not for his unrelenting assistance in the Outlands.

  “Thank you, Andr,” Ryl offered.

  “And know that I will be by your side every step of the way, my friend,” Andr acknowledged.

  The afternoon passed in a blur. Ryl and Andr were treated to a second bath prior to their introduction ceremony that evening. The heated water again soothed Ryl to the core. His senses blossomed with heightened clarity as the warmth and the clean water scrubbed the last trace of the toxin from his body. Andr had rejoined Ryl in his room when the quiet knock on the door announced Brasley’s presence.

  “I’m here to collect you again,” the mender said with a grin. “This time, I assure you that the formalities will be brief. The celebrations, however, may prove lengthy. Please Ryl, take heed not to overdo yourself.”

  “For the first time in moons, I’m close to feeling myself again,” Ryl said honestly. “I’d like to remain this way if I can.”

  The explanation seemed to appease the mender though his eyes held a hint of doubt. With a wave of his hand, he ushered Ryl and Andr from the door out of the residence into the avenue beyond. The sun was close to setting; the final sliver of the blazing orb was still visible over the jagged tops of the mountains. Lanterns had already been lit throughout the city. On every corner, the illumination from their soft yellow glow was beginning to spread as the sun’s light grew more faint. The avenue outside their apartment was devoid of any foot traffic, though Ryl could see and hear the crowd gathered around the colosseum in the distance.

  Instead of following their route from the previous trip to the Council Seat, the pair followed the mender north, passing both the primary school and university. From there they turned west onto the main avenue that split the city. The towering columns of the Great Hall could be seen in the distance. The gathering crowd swelled around its entrance, spreading out down the alley toward them. Those they encountered greeted them with warm smiles, graciously moving aside for their small party to pass.

  Ryl felt his nervousness grow as they crossed through the central square approaching the front lines of the mass. There were so many people. He felt the weight of every pair of eyes trained on him. The sensation was discomforting. He glanced at Andr; the stoic warrior seemed unfazed, his eyes casually scanning the crowd that closed in around them.

  The throng of bodies grew denser as they reached the edge of the colosseum. Here, they were joined by a small contingent of armed Vigil who opened an aisle to the rear of the raised dais that stretched out over the arena. A rectangular line of soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, granting some reprieve for the councilors on the dais from the entirety of Vim without.

  His time here had been short and very secluded, yet he’d heard not even a grumble of discontent with the leaders whose duty it was to steer the city over the course of their short cycle in power. The guard’s presence was more for show and for comfort, alleviating a small degree of the press of the amassing crowd. Despite the air of civility that permeated the gathering, Ryl felt wholly out of place with the volume of people that surrounded him.

  The line of Vigil parted with their arrival, allowing for their small group to pass between their ranks. The trio paused as the wall of soldiers sealed the gap behind them. Ahead, the sight that greeted his eyes was overwhelming. The councilors stood in a line, maintaining the same order as they had during his first meeting. Beyond them, filling the colosseum to the brim and spilling outward throughout the avenues beyond was a veritable sea of humanity.

  His attention was drawn to the front of the podium on which he now stood. A line of phrenics surrounding the front edge of the raised dais, their heads and shoulders stretching up above the lip. All were wearing their telltale cloaks. All had their hoods raised over their heads.

  The apprehension that swelled through his body dwarfed the nervousness he’d experienced earlier. His legs, which had felt strong to this point during their short walk, now seemed startlingly weak. He struggled to stop them from shaking. Ryl wanted nothing more than for this formality to be over, to return to the solitude of his clinic bed. He feared he would have turned and retreated into the crowd had the line of soldiers not prevented his escape.

  An unexpected wave of calm washed over him. He quickly surveyed the phrenics in front of him, recognizing the fleeting view of Kaep’s shadowed face as she turned her head back to the crowd. Could they sense his discomfort?

  Councilor Irie interrupted his thoughts as she turned in their direction, acknowledging their arrival. She smiled as she inclined her head with a subtle greeting. The Councilwoman took a small step forward, holding her arms up above her head. On command, the crowd that surrounded the colosseum fell into silence.

  “Welcome ladies and gentlemen of Vim,” she announced, her voice carrying with ease over the massed citizens. The eager crowd remained silent as she continued.

  “It is to mark a momentous set of events that we have gathered this evening,” Irie continued. “As of now, all have heard tales of the arrival of strangers at our great walls. Strangers who braved the unknown of the Outlands and fought off the demons of the Horde. Tonight, we welcome them with open arms into our great society. The walls of Vim become stronger by two.”

  The last of her words were swallowed by a thunderous roar of applause as the mass of bodies surrounding them broke into cheer. Ryl felt the reverberations pass through his body. He noted the slight tremor from the earth below his feet. Irie surveyed the crowd, allowing the deafening roar to carry on for a few moments before again silencing it with a raised hand.

  Ryl looked nervously out of the corner of his eye at Andr, who remained at his right side. The guard stood tall, his posture rigid and straight, his hands clasped behind his back. As nonchalantly as possible, Ryl adopted a similar pose, yet felt as though he failed miserably in its application. Andr greeted him with the flash of a quick smile.

  “Fear not, my friend. This will all be over soon,” Andr said loud enough for Ryl to hear over the dissipating cheers of the crowd.

  Irie waited patiently as the volume of the applause died down to a whisper.

  “The first is a man whose military prowess is a complement to our security. His experience on the fields of battle has been proven, time and time again. His fearless tenacity witnessed in the face of the Horde. He has already found a place teaching among our Vigil. Please welcome, Andr.”

  Irie pivoted, motioning for the mercenary to step forward. Andr strode forward confidently, s
topping along her side. The crowd erupted into another sea of applause. Councilwoman Irie allowed the cacophony to wear itself out, not raising a hand to cease the applauding of the citizens. Andr nodded his head briefly at the onset, then remained still throughout the duration, scanning the crowd with his eyes.

  The Councilwoman continued once the cheers had subsided, and Andr remained a statue by her side.

  “Long have we maintained a belief in the prophet and his words,” Irie said. “From the time of our founders, throughout the cycles, we have waited. We have waited for the coming of the one who will set into motion the events that will forever change our destiny. Forever change the destiny of Damaris.”

  Ryl’s heart sunk at the admission of the councilwoman. Though he acknowledged the power that flowed within his veins, he was terrified that she would promise them miracles. Miracles he was hopeless to create.

  “Although we may not yet be certain what those events may be, we are assured of one thing,” the Councilwoman paused for effect before continuing. “We know today that one has come.”

  “That the Catalyst has arrived.”

  Chapter 31

  Councilwoman Irie turned her body sideways, ushering Ryl forward with a wave of her arm. He froze. His legs locked in position, screaming in protest as her arm reeled him toward her. With every ounce of courage and confidence he could muster, he stepped forward, stopping alongside the councilor. Tens of thousands of eyes focused on him; their weight oppressive.

  Silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Ryl studied the crowd that surrounded him. The expressions written on their faces were indistinct. Was it awe or disappointment that registered in their looks at the realization of who their catalyst would be? The fear was paralyzing. What could he do to live up to a millennium of expectations?

  The roar that followed dwarfed that of the previous—even the mountains themselves shook from the monumental peal. The cheers rapidly became more uncomfortable than the silence as they stretched on. Ryl did his best to smile, nodding his head while slowly scanning the crowd. Wave after wave of calm struck him, seemingly coming from all sides. His comforted smile grew, as he knew the phrenics felt his pain, lessening the burden being heaped upon his shoulders.

  Thankfully, Irie took a step forward, raising her hands for silence. The remarkably obedient crowd had lost its earlier restraint in light of the announcement. They refrained from acquiescing to her wishes for some time, cheering with joyous abandon. At long last, a manageable quiet was restored to the colosseum.

  “Tomorrow dawns a new day for Vim,” Irie’s voice shouted out over the crowd. “Tonight we will celebrate!”

  Irie paused a moment as the jubilant cheers again washed over her. She turned offering Ryl and Andr a relieved smile, bidding them to follow the already retreating councilors through the line of Vigil at their rear. Ryl was all too happy to accept her offer. He fell into line alongside Councilor Paasek, the phrenic, as they made their way under guard toward the towering doors of the Council Seat.

  “You did well, Ryl,” Paasek offered quietly as he leaned closer. “Don’t mind the words of Irie. She’s always had a flair for showmanship. Vim needs a little added boost of hope every now and again.”

  Ryl shrunk back slightly from the reaching hands that crept toward him from around the Vigil walking off to his side. There was no malice in their actions. Their touches were gentle, almost reverent as their fingers brushed the skin of his arm.

  “You will feel the call of the alexen in your blood from time to time. All phrenics do,” Paasek continued. “Remember this. Though when it happens it may feel otherwise, it is you, not the alexen, not the prophecy, that controls your actions. You must always be you. Stay true to that, and one day, you may just change the world.”

  Paasek ended his statement with a light pat on Ryl’s back. The gentle tap from the phrenic was shockingly strong. The councilor’s arm was solid, like stone. Ryl staggered as the force of the touch was exacerbated by the weakness that crept back into his legs.

  “Thank you, sir,” Ryl stuttered, taken back by the kind words of the phrenic beside him. “I fear I have far too much to learn.”

  “Ah, you may surprise yourself yet, my friend,” Paasek admitted. “Your blood already holds the answers to most questions. I can help you learn how to ask the right ones. We’ll have you awakened soon enough. Your skills may dwarf anything we can hope to attain.”

  The cheers from the surrounding crowd made further conversation difficult. Ryl smiled and waved, shaking hand after hand as they moved toward the Grand Hall. His mind was focused elsewhere, on the words of the councilor. His awakening. What did it mean?

  The great doors to the Council Seat closed behind them with a hollow thud. The uproarious cheers from outside, now muffled by the closed door, quieted to a manageable din of eager conversation and merriment. Ryl could hear the distant sound of music.

  “Those were quite the ovations, don’t you think?” Counselor Heild asked, his face barely able to contain its giddiness. “You certainly gave them something to cheer about, Irie.”

  “Aye, that you did,” Paasek intoned. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

  “What’s done is done,” Irie admitted with a pained smile. “You know as well as I, that the prophecy was remarkably vague on what events the catalyst will harken.”

  She shared a brief glance with Paasek before continuing her statement.

  “I think it’s time our friends visit the prophet,” she said. “He’s yet to speak to us since his arrival, perhaps the catalyst will garner a response. Mender Brasley, how soon will he be well enough to travel?”

  “That is a question for him,” Mender Brasley responded honestly. “His course of remedy is complete, and I see no lingering signs of the poison in him. His strength and endurance may still lag, but he should be more than capable of making the march.”

  Irie nodded her head before turning to meet the eyes of the rest of the councilors. At last, her gaze fell on Ryl.

  “The walk is only a matter of a few miles; how soon will you be ready?” Councilwoman Irie asked.

  Ryl’s answer to the question would have been the same regardless the state of his health. He was ready. He'd leave now if need be, he’d force his way through the exhaustion.

  “With another night's rest I should be more than ready on the morrow,” Ryl announced. “I'm eager to meet the prophet myself.”

  “Then it's decided,” Irie said, clapping her hands together in front of her body. The slap echoed through the crowded entry chamber. “Councilwoman Lenu, can the Vigil be assembled tomorrow to escort them?”

  “Aye, I'll see it done,” Lenu responded with a nod of her head.

  Without another word, the representative for the Vigil wheeled about, disappearing into the crowded hall.

  “Councilor Paasek,” Irie continued. “Perhaps the vanguard of his future scout detail can attend. The familiarity will be a benefit in the long run, don't you think?”

  “I agree with that logic,” Paasek admitted. “I’ll inform the phrenic. Might I suggest an early start? It will still be a considerable distance for one who only a few days prior was confined to a bed. Traveling with caution will prove wiser than travel predicated by haste. I’d prefer if all were back within the safety of the walls before nightfall.”

  Paasek flashed Ryl a devilish smile.

  “The celebrations have already begun,” he continued with a grin. “Let him enjoy some of the evening though.”

  Councilwoman Irie let out an exaggerated sigh as she shook her head.

  “Yes, Ryl enjoy yourself this evening. After all, Vim is celebrating your arrival,” Irie said. “The Vigil will collect you in the morning.”

  With a pleasant smile, she made her way to where Councilors Heild and Oswill were standing, inserting herself immediately into their conversation.

  “Enjoy the night tonight. We’ll see you in the morning,” Paasek said with a smile before moving to join the
ongoing conversation.

  Ryl felt a tap on his right shoulder. He spun around to find the grinning face of Andr behind him.

  “You handled yourself well back there, not that I’m at all surprised,” Andr acknowledged, beaming like a proud parent. “We are not through this yet. I’m told that they require our presence outside. It’d be rude of us not to show up for our own party.”

  “I know,” Ryl sighed. “The size of the crowd makes me uncomfortable. Even the Harvest couldn’t compare to that volume of people.”

  “I only said that they require our presence, not for how long though,” Andr spoke in a hushed tone as the pair worked their way toward the door. “Councilwoman Lenu and a few of the Vigil officers I’ve been working with are having a private celebration of sorts, though I believe that will be shortened considering tomorrow’s trek. Once we make ourselves seen throughout the avenue, we should be able to slip away easily enough.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Ryl agreed.

  The pair exited the Council Seat, painstakingly working their way into the throng of spectators waiting outside. The citizens still clogged the Westfate. Though they massed in the avenues surrounding the colosseum their numbers had dissipated. Even so, the volume was overwhelming. The central square appeared to host the multitude of the celebration. Ryl could hear the upbeat tune of guitar, percussion and voice carry over the noise of the crowd. He could see fleeting glimpses of dancing in the square.

  The contradiction to his previous life in The Stocks was undeniable. As tributes, they had rarely the cause for celebration. Their minor gatherings were a subdued affair for fear of alerting the guards. For fear of retribution. They mourned every addition to their meager flock. They grieved every loss.

  The lost city had survived its share of toils, forging through each with an unyielding resolve. From the brink of extinction to a thriving civilization, they had worked tirelessly to make their city the antithesis of the evil that had driven them from their ancestral homelands.