Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2)

by C. J. Aaron

  Andr cleared his throat, calling the attention to him.

  “I know that land well. I was well acquainted with the honorable Lord Felloc,” Andr paused. There was no disguising the flash of recognition that crossed the faces of the Council. Oswill was far and away the worst at hiding the surprise.

  “I regret if I’m the bearer of ill tidings,” Andr spoke softly. “Felloc and his family were murdered nearly five and a half cycles ago.”

  This time the gasp came from the Council. Irie covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Their deaths were shockingly brutal,” Andr continued. “They were attributed to a band of outlaws that had been rumored to reside in the area, though much speculation resounded. Lord Felloc had become a vocal dissident, incensed further by the continued depravity of the kingdom. The king was all too quick to rule the investigation into their deaths closed.”

  “That is a tragedy, and a great loss to us all,” Irie said as she hung her head. Pausing for an extended moment. “Their passing will be mourned.”

  The silence stretched on for several moments. The excitement over the newly discovered stream of information from the outside world was abruptly severed. It was Irie who again broke the silence.

  “Andr, it’s a blessing that you know the area well. It will be your lead that will be followed to guide them to The Stocks,” Irie ordered.

  The mercenary responded with a silent nod.

  “This concludes that which we’ve summoned you for today,” Irie announced. “I suggest you finish the necessary arrangements and rest early. You will have a late night and a long, uncertain journey ahead of you.”

  Her words echoed through the chamber as silence descended upon the Great Hall. The finality, the uncertainty, and the excitement surrounding the expedition sunk in.

  “Forget not that which you leave behind,” Irie intoned softly. “You go with the hopes of Vim on your shoulders. Until we meet again, my friends.”

  Within a matter of hours, they would be leaving the safety of Vim.

  The freedom of The Stocks was one step closer.

  Chapter 43

  Ryl found that sleep came with difficulty that evening owing to the early hour and the excitement that rushed through his body. The plan was for each member of the party to cross the city alone, rendezvousing inside the mine after the night's first watch. At that hour, the streets would be deserted, freeing them from the questioning eyes of many. The bulk of the activity would be from the Vigil guarding the outer gate. By moving alone, their travel throughout the city should go unnoticed.

  Ryl had packed quickly. His wardrobe had grown since his arrival in the lost city, yet his possessions were still scant. He was again leaving with virtually all his worldly possessions. He arranged his clothing and water skin on his bed, looking at the empty pack that lay open beside it. The neat bundle of dried leaves of the blighted rose, crucial for the treatment of the tributes, had been evenly divided into five sealed small parcels. Each package was delivered into the hands of the phrenics accompanying the expedition. By spreading the burden, if one or two of the packages were lost, the results would be less than catastrophic.

  Ryl collected the sealed pack of medicine, lifting it hesitantly to his nose. The dried leaves had been bundled in cloth before being sealed with wax. A second layer of cloth and wax were added for good measure before being tied into a small sack. He was amazed that the horrific odor of the pungent leaves was successfully masked by the coating. The package had a faint floral smell thanks to the meticulous packing and mildly scented outer layer.

  The mender had been more subdued than his norm as he delivered his packages and bid the phrenics farewell. Some he’d known the entirety of his life, others, in the cases of Kaep and Ramm, he’d assisted in their births. He’d watched them grow from newborns to the fabled warriors that now stood before him. He cracked a smile with his parting words to Ryl.

  “Now that my days will have been freed from your constant need of tending, I’ll be able to accomplish my prescribed work,” Brasley joked. The mender offered his hand to Ryl, pulling him in close enough to whisper.

  “Please stay safe. Take care of them, my friend,” his voice broke as the words stumbled out.

  Ryl thanked the mender for all he’d done. His selfless persistence had, on more occasions than he cared to recall, pulled him from the abyss, nurturing him back to health.

  The phrenics had gathered in their hall for a farewell dinner. Andr joined them after bidding a subdued farewell to the acquaintances he’d made throughout the city. Through hard work and infallible character, his uncertain arrival to the city had paved the way for his popularity. He was respected and well liked among the majority of the city’s inhabitants.

  The meal was simple, the mood lighthearted, yet uncertainty hung over them, unspoken. Though the phrenics were supremely confident in their abilities, they were moments away from embarking on a mission whose singular focus amounted to storming a heavily fortified prison.

  Their party would number but ten individuals.

  They would find themselves in a Kingdom that cursed and persecuted them.

  There would be no support.

  They would be alone.

  Ryl’s farewells were by far the easiest. He knew all the phrenics well, had connected with them on a level deeper than many could understand, yet the ones he was the closest to would be traveling at his side. He was eternally thankful for their ongoing support. With Andr at his side, they retreated to their shared suite early to make ready for their departure.

  A quiet knock on the door alerted Ryl to the time. He’d been sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for several minutes. With his mindsight he could see Kaep, Vox, Deyalou and Ramm moving about inside the Hall.

  “Come in, Andr,” Ryl said.

  The door opened quietly; the mercenary greeted him with a warm smile.

  “Are you ready, my friend?” he asked.

  Ryl rose from his bed crossing the narrow room, shouldering his pack. He’d already donned his cloak and strapped his holster and Leaves around his waist.

  “Aye, that I am,” Ryl responded.

  “It's time we get back to The Stocks then,” Andr said with a grin.

  Ryl couldn't hold back the smile. His friend wrapped his arm around his shoulder as they walked out of their suite for what could be the last time.

  The phrenics, Kaep, Vox, Deyalou and Ramm were waiting for them as they reached the main hall.

  “Does everyone have what they need?” Kaep asked rhetorically. She already knew the answer. They had prepared for this moment for moons. The change in direction, though last minute, was an inconvenience, nothing more.

  “There's no turning back now,” she stated bluntly. “Leave one at a time. Give a few minutes between each other. Use your assigned paths and stay in the shadows. See you in the mines, my friends.”

  Without another word she slung her bow over her shoulder, pulled her hood up over her head and stalked from the hall. The great outer door closed noiselessly behind her.

  One after another the phrenics exited the hall, disappearing like wraiths into the night. The avenues, only partially illuminated by the low light of the waning lanterns, provided ample shadows for their silent movements throughout the city. Ryl was the second to last to leave, only Andr remained behind. He bid his friend farewell with a nod before donning his hood and melting into the night.

  Ryl's path led him past the side of the colosseum before heading north up the alley toward the mine. He crossed the Westfate merging into the darkened alley that ran alongside the clinic, barracks and military classrooms. Their interiors were silent.

  He followed the avenue north, passing the stables and pens on his left. The large section was home to the animals that provided Vim with its leather, milk and meat. Along the right side of the street, a large warehouse, tanner and slaughterhouse sat in a row. The animals, alerted to his scent, stirred restlessly.

  Turning east once he reach
ed the northernmost section of the avenue that circled the city, he quickly found himself at the intersection of the wide Northfate that bisected the city. To his left, the river that lined the northern border babbled softly in the quiet of the night. A wide stone bridge spanned the width of the river, granting access to the mines beyond.

  Ryl surveyed the area, contented that none were moving along the streets. With purposeful strides he veered north, exiting the shadows of the building to his side. His pace carried him rapidly across the bridge. The darkened, open mouth of the mines eagerly swallowed him whole.

  Ryl had never ventured far into the mines. The extent of his all-encompassing tour of the city had led him no further than the rowdy mess hall that was situated just off the left side of the sprawling entrance shaft. Once inside the mine, the corridor narrowed, ending in a thick metal gate. The heavy, metal barrier stood wide open, propped ajar with a large slab of rock.

  Following the assigned path deeper into the earth, he passed large wooden columns that supported the wooden braces constructed to strengthen the stability of the tunnel’s ceiling. The interior was dimly lit by small patches of glowing moss that had been painstakingly cultivated here to provide emergency lighting when the lanterns of the workers weren’t present.

  At the first intersection he turned to the left, entering a slender offshoot of the main tunnel. Another gate stood open, a heavy metal chain with an open lock suspended over its horizontal bars. The path beyond suffered from clear disuse, with small chunks of rock littering the dusty floor. The interior was nearly pitch black. Here the glowing moss had been allowed to wither. In the distance his ears picked up the distinct sounds of hushed conversation.

  The tunnel descended steadily as it probed deeper into the mountain. Rounding a sharp corner, he was met by the flickering lights of torches. The shadows of his accomplices danced across the walls as they hastily recovered their supplies from the hidden cache.

  Ryl counted ten packs lined against the wall as he joined his party in the darkened tunnel. Ahead the light from the torches shimmered off the gently undulating waters that flooded the pathway forward. To his right, a there was a thin hole bored into the rock. The clear sounds of running water babbled in the distance.

  “Welcome, Ryl,” Paasek said, patting him on the shoulder. “Grab a pack. In it you'll find extra dried rations, a lantern, extra fuel oil and several spare torches. Use them all with care for the journey in the dark will be long.”

  Ryl hefted his second pack. The satchel was heavy, and the added weight, though necessary, would no doubt slow them down.

  “We wait for one more, then your journey will commence,” Paasek continued.

  “I'm here,” Andr's hushed voice rang out through the dark. The mercenary moved quickly to collect his pack, casually throwing it over his shoulder.

  In the flickering light of the burning torches, Ryl viewed the party assembled before him. The faces of the four phrenics were still cloaked in shadow, but their tattoos looked alive in the wavering light. The Vigil struck a confident pose, yet he could see the uncertainty on their faces. Andr stood as he always stood. His face held its usual impassive pose, yet Ryl knew the mercenary was ready to face whatever challenge was thrown his direction.

  Ryl sent a wave of calm over the group. He watched as the Vigil relaxed slightly, while the phrenics stood resolute.

  Paasek stepped forward, torch in hand. He pointed the flaming stick toward the small opening chiseled into the rock.

  “Your path lies within,” he whispered. “Vim will wait patiently for your triumphant return. Stay safe. Farewell, my friends.”

  His gaze surveyed the group before resting firmly on the phrenics. He spoke to all though his message pointed toward the awakened few. There was an understanding behind his words.

  “Trust in your senses,” he whispered. “Stay together and you will find your way through the dark.”

  Chapter 44

  Ryl was the last to move through the opening of the hastily chiseled offshoot. Paasek grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him as he made to pass.

  “See them home safely, Ryl,” he whispered. He made no attempt to hide the pained emotion in his voice. “All of them.”

  “I will do all I can,” he acknowledged. Paasek nodded before slipping away, disappearing into the darkness.

  Ryl quickly caught up with the rest of his party. The group waited on a small patch of smoothed stone near the edge of the black water. To their left, the river bubbled up from under the rock wall, its gentle waves lapping quietly against the river’s edge. The tunnel stretched high above their heads; its stalactite ridden ceiling barely visible in the glowing light of the torches.

  Their plan was to march in a closely packed single file; the phrenic with heightened senses and mindsight were to maintain the lead as well as the rear guard. Andr and the Vigil would maintain the middle of the order. To conserve their limited resources, one torch would light the front while the second illuminated the rear. Once the torches were spent, the lanterns would be used to light their passage through the dark.

  Knowing their prescribed tasks, the party set off without a word. They'd only just begun their trip through the tunnels yet Ryl already longed for the light of the sun. How long would it be before any felt the warmth of its rays on their skin?

  There was visible excitement, an eager anticipation in their steps as they began their trek. They moved cautiously at first, their torches swaying from their path to illuminate the slow-moving water a step from their legs. The surface appeared an ominous black in the flickering light. What creatures resided in the depths was a mystery none were eager to discover.

  The pace increased steadily as they moved further under the mountains. Aside from the sounds of the water, their occasional muted conversation and shuffled footsteps were the only noises to break the silence of the tunnel.

  They continued marching onward, step after step, mile after mile following the lazy path of the river. The party stopped to eat from their carefully planned rations when they could stand the hunger no more. They slept in shifts on the damp ground when their legs grew too weary to carry on. The light of a single lantern illuminated a feeble halo around their makeshift campsites. One set of eyes remained ever vigilant, scanning the darkness for any signs of motion.

  As the days passed and the weariness set in, tempers grew short as patience frayed. Their minds were in a constant state of heightened awareness. The harrowing thoughts of devilish, unseen creatures lurking outside the light of their small fires addled their minds. Shortly after their march resumed on what was their fourth day underground, their progress ground to an abrupt halt. Ramm, held his fist up, signaling the stop. Ahead of them, the pathway vanished under the cold, dark waters of the river.

  The phrenic hefted his massive warhammer in one hand, holding the torch out in front of his body with the other. He gingerly poked the butt of the weapon into the water, finding the path only inches below the surface.

  “The water is shallow,” he grumbled. “I see no other way past.”

  The light of his torch disappeared into the darkness several meters to their front.

  “Vox,” he said quietly, turning to the phrenic at his rear. “Can you give us some light?”

  “Aye,” came the quiet response of the phrenic elementalist.

  Ramm dropped to a knee.

  Vox’s tattooed left arm glowed in the darkness—Ryl could see the bones silhouetted through his skin. He raised the arm in front of his body. Flames inched their way up his forearm coalescing into a small glowing ball of flame that floated just above the palm of his hand. As the last of the flames joined the others, he closed his fingers around the burning ball. In one fluid motion, he reared his arm back, and heaved the fireball into the darkness ahead.

  The ball of flame burned with a brilliant, white fire. A sphere of daylight surrounded it as it moved into the depths of the tunnel. They watched silently as the light glistened off the moistened rock o
f the walls. The reflections of the flames danced off the calm surface of the river below. There was a collective sigh of relief as the pathway emerged from the water in the distance. A matter of a hundred meters separated them from the continuation of raised stone along the edge.

  The fireball continued onward, rising slightly as it traveled; jagged points of stone hanging from the ceiling grew closer. The ball struck the tip of a large stalactite, spreading out in a glorious shower of sparks. Thousands of tiny pinpoints of light fluttered down to the water’s surface, hissing as they extinguished.

  A thunderous cracking noise ripped through the tunnel, echoing as it bounced off the walls. There was a deep splash of something massive striking the water. The party remained motionless. Silent.

  Moments later, the first of the small waves surged over their pathway. Ryl stepped backward to avoid the water, but the attempt was futile. The icy cold liquid washed over their feet. Nielix, who was standing just in front of him in line, lost his balance as he slipped on the slick rock pathway. He pitched to the side, striking the ground hard, rolling into the water of the river.

  Ryl reacted on impulse, lunging forward, grabbing the flailing Vigil by the back of his shirt. His leg slipped into the cold water. For a moment, a surge of panic raced through him as he slid further and further into the icy depths. His leg struck a solid ledge as the water crested above his knee. With his foot finding purchase, he wrenched Nielix out of the river onto the slick path. The Vigil slammed back into the ground, sliding roughly into the wall. Before Ryl could remove himself from the water, Nielix was in his face.

  “Don’t lay your hands on me again,” he snarled in Ryl’s face. He looked deranged in the flickering light of the torch. “It’s your fault we’re down here in this sewer.”

  Ryl pulled his leg from the chilly water. The anger boiled inside of him, yet his voice was calm to the point of antagonizing.