Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3)

by C. J. Aaron

  Ryl nodded as he moved from the wagons toward the main door to the stables. Through the crack between panels, the first rays of the sun's light were sneaking inside. The particles of dust in the air seemed to glow as they floated freely in the brilliant strip of light that lanced through the still air of the interior.

  In the courtyard, Andr stood waiting with the reins of two horses in his hand. A small group of others gathered near the front of Geshill’s house, awaiting Ryl’s arrival. The mood was subdued.

  Geshill stepped forward from the group as he approached and clasped Ryl's hand with an iron grip.

  “We're I younger, I'd be traveling with you today,” the farmer lamented. “Should fates find that you're ever in Milstead again, know that you will always have a welcome place at my home.”

  Ryl knew the sentiment was genuine. If he had asked, Geshill would have stormed the walls of The Stocks at his side. As it was, he feared he'd already placed the man in undue jeopardy. Throughout their shelter at his farm, there had been no visitors aside from his daughters, who had left the previous evening. There was little chance that word of their presence hidden inside the stable would spread. The bodies of five hunters near the outskirts of the town were sure to be noted sooner rather than later, if in fact they hadn't been so already. Once their deaths were reported, investigations were sure to follow.

  “Thank you, Geshill,” Ryl said. He needed the assistance of no additional emotion to convey the sincerity of his words. “Your hospitality and aid have been unwavering. I hope that our paths will cross again someday soon.”

  The farmer pulled him into a brief embrace. He whispered loud enough for Ryl to hear when they were close.

  “Please keep a lookout for my Lyra,” Geshill pleaded. “I know not her fate, yet you've given me hope that she could yet still be alive. I’d give anything to see her once again.”

  The farmer pulled back slightly and sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes, temporarily stopping the tears that now issued unabated.

  “If it's mercy she needs. I’d rather it be your hand that grants her rest,” his voice cracked as he choked out the words.

  His eyes met Ryl's for a moment before he lowered his head, slowly stalking back into his house. The click of the door sounded like a hammer. Silence stretched on for a moment after Geshill’s took his leave; none seemed willing to break the still.

  Finally Aldren cleared his throat.

  “We'll see you again in two days’ time,” the merchant announced. “I'll have the wagons waiting as promised.”

  Without another word, Aldren followed in the footsteps of Geshill, heading back into the house. As he reached for the latch the door flew open, nearly knocking him from his feet. With an agility and grace that belied her lack of sight, Faya slipped past the merchant. Ryl could feel the emotion surging off her. There was a sadness that could not be disguised.

  He countered the outpouring of woe with a feeling of hope as the child wrapped her arms around his waist. Rolan followed quickly in her wake apologizing for the behavior of his daughter. His face flushed with embarrassment. Ryl brushed off his apology with a smile. Though her talents were already blooming, she was still no more than a child at heart.

  “Faya, fear not, I will see you again in a few days,” Ryl said. “Keep working with the phrenics. We all have our parts to play in this. We need you to be strong.”

  She gave Ryl an extended squeeze before backing away. Rolan’s arms were waiting just a step behind her, his hands clasping gently onto her shoulders.

  Ryl turned to Kaep and Vox. He suppressed the feeling of trepidation that threatened to bubble up from within. He and Andr would be riding ahead of the remainder of the group. They needed a more accurate appraisal of the current state of Cadsae Proper than their current information provided. With the addition of the slowly recovering tributes, the risk of arriving early to the port city was substantial. Their party had swelled to a number far too large to linger unnoticed. They would meet again off the main road under the cover of darkness two nights from now.

  With the coming of the sun following their reunion, the focus of their mission would begin.

  Phrenics would once again walk openly in Damaris.

  Few words were needed between the phrenics before he left. They all knew their prescribed tasks. Ryl clasped hands with Vox, inclining his head slightly to the elementalist.

  He was surprised to find that Kaep held her hand out to him as well. Ryl had never spoken to her of the electric, energizing magnetism he’d felt on the rare occasions that their skin had touched. He was sure after their last exchange that she noted the sensation as well. He pondered its meaning as he reached his hand out to take hers.

  The moment their hands made contact, the sensation exploded in his hand, racing quickly up his arm. His body felt energized, his mind struggled to relinquish the contact. The mild shock that registered in her eyes gave away the answer he’d been longing to ask. That she felt it too he was sure. Ryl was determined to discuss it with her at the next opportunity.

  With effort, he broke the contact with her hand, withdrawing his slowly. Their eyes remained locked throughout the exchange. Each seemingly probing the depths of the other’s eyes, delving for knowledge. Ryl read; apprehension and fear. There was more, a look that he failed to comprehend, one that was gone as quickly as it had come.

  He broke from the gaze, running his eyes over the group gathered in the courtyard.

  “We’ll meet again in a few days, my friends,” he said confidently.

  With a smile and a nod, he took the reins from Andr’s hand before easily mounting the patiently waiting mare. Without another word, the two spurred their horses onward to a brisk trot.

  The farm behind them quickly faded from view as they cantered along the narrow, fence-lined lane. Off to their right, he noted the shadows of the Vigil materialize from the small stand of trees. Without a gesture, the figures vanished back into the glade.

  They had a full half-day of riding ahead of them before they reached the port city. Though he’d lived only a stone's throw away from Cadsae Proper for nearly half his life, he still knew very little of the sprawling city. The partial visions of the cobblestone streets that he’d viewed through the slats of the black wagon were forever etched into his mind. The bars of the carriage window were still very much a part of the image.

  So too was the uncertainty. The nauseating stench and sweltering heat of his moving cell would maintain a permanent hold on his consciousness.

  These original fleeting visions, his brief survey of the area surrounding the Pining Gate, and the rapid view of the port were his only experiences of the city at large. The bustling port would again be awash with activity. People coming and going about their days in either blissful ignorance of, or blind anesthesia to, the horrors occurring behind the Palisades that dominated the skyline over the town. They were likely oblivious to the true impact of the occasion they so joyously cheered.

  Though he had been unaware at the time his Harvest was unfolding, Andr had been with him then as well.

  They followed the southern thoroughfare to its end. Here it merged with the main road running east and west. They slowed their horses to a walk. Ryl reached behind him, removing the spare cloak from one of the two small saddlebags his horse carried. They’d packed light, bringing only necessities. A bedroll was secured to the back of his saddle, and the hilt of a short sword protruded from its carefully rolled end.

  Ryl threw the cloak over his body, hiding his bare tattooed arms in its sleeves. He pulled the short sword out from where it rested in the bedroll, quickly buckling it to his belt. Though he was more than familiar with the blade, and aptly competent with its use, the feeling of the sheath bouncing off his leg was still remarkably foreign.

  The two made good time after reaching the main road. To their west, the dark grey line of the eastern palisade grew on the horizon with every forward step. The foreboding, oppressive feeling of being cons
tantly watched increased. What would it be like to step back into The Stocks? In his mind, he harbored the fear that he’d be crushed by the figurative weight of the walls.

  It had only been a cycle since he departed The Stocks through his own Harvest. Ryl had changed since he'd last crossed through the darkened maw of the Pining Gates. The young tribute had left in shackles with little hope. He was now a free man, an awakened phrenic, returning with a purpose.

  With his awakening, his mind had matured considerably. Through the alexen, his body had lived countless lifetimes, experienced innumerable cycles worth of experience, knowledge and training. The information and expertise were there at his fingertips, though far too much to comprehend all at once. In the matter of only a few short moons he’d learned more than most would in several lifetimes, yet volumes remained unprocessed. Oftentimes it was the most insignificant environmental trigger that opened the floodgates. The sparkling reflection of light off water or the whisper of the wind through the trees would unstopper the dam, allowing for the deluge of pertinent information to pour through. At other times, all he needed to do was to concentrate on a subject and the information was there for him to access freely.

  Ryl recalled the words of Paasek; the alexen, after all were still a semi-sentient being and still capable of withholding information until the time was right.

  As expected, the traffic on the road was heavier leading toward the city. Almost immediately, they passed a merchant, along with a few small groups of riders. They were greeted cheerfully. Ryl was anxious, yet there was no inkling of the animosity or unveiled suspicion they had experienced from the hunters.

  Rumors of the battle at Serrate and the destruction of the processing facility for the tributes had likely yet to reach their ears. If the villagers had followed his instruction, they’d have released the guards captured from the facility the previous day. Information traveled quickly, yet the distance was vast. There seemed little possibility of a coordinated response from the Kingdom. Moreover, if the clues Ryl let slip were believed, it was the capital city of Leremont that would be preparing for assault.

  By the time the truth of what happened was uncovered, the Kingdom would have other, more significant issues to deal with.

  For much of the morning they rode in silence, the steady cadence of their hoofbeats on the road and the rush of the wind in their ears the only sounds. Though the ride was devoid of conversation, both he and Andr were far from complacent. Ryl scanned frequently with the mindsight, scouring the surrounding area for any sign of tribute or Lei Guard. Andr’s eyes were in a constant state of alert, darting across the landscape for any indication of disturbance.

  The pair paused shortly after midday, allowing their mounts to stop for a spell near the bank of a narrow stream. Ryl quickly rummaged through his pack, chewing hungrily on a thin strip of dried meat he’d brought for the trip. He leaned against the side of a thin tree, his eyes taking in the views of the horizon.

  Ryl guessed they’d covered over half the distance from Milstead to Cadsae Proper. From their location, the gently rolling hills to the west rose up overhead, blocking the view of the oppressive wall. The jagged, rocky tips of the Haven Mountains still towered over them in the far distance.

  Anticipation and nervousness were growing rapidly. There was no turning back from the course they’d set themselves upon. There were still so many variables yet to be ascertained. They needed all the information that they could gleam from the city to fill in the gaps.

  A muffled crunch in the loose gravel of the roadway signaled Andr’s approach from behind. Ryl pushed himself back from the tree, turning to greet the mercenary.

  “Let’s make haste. It would be wise to find lodging before nightfall. The city will be far busier than normal with the upcoming Harvest,” Andr said encouragingly.

  Ryl could feel the eagerness pulsing from the battle-hardened mercenary. He could sense the longing pouring out of him with every beat of his heart. For Ryl, it was the freedom of all tributes that drove him forward; that steered him with a magnetic pull that could not be denied.

  For Andr, it was only one. His son, Cray.

  They collected their horses, quickly easing them back into a canter, leaving the bank of the stream behind. The road in front of them ran uphill, a gradual slope that extended for several hundred meters. Andr rode a few lengths ahead of him, slowing his horse to a stop at the peak of the rise.

  To the south, the green fields and scattered forests ended in an unbroken line of blue. The Sea of Prosper stretched out before them, from turquoise waters near the shore to the deep blue at the point where it met the horizon. The contrast in the rich cerulean shades of the sea to the azure of the sky was startling.

  Following the shore from east to west, Ryl noted the few scattered villages spread out along the banks of the water. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes fell on the sprawling city in the west.

  Cadsae Proper.

  The port city was vast, spreading out for several miles along the edge of the sea. The most densely populated area, and most well defined in terms of construction, was centered around the corner of the wall, where the massive eastern palisade met its southern counterpart. Less than half a mile separated the edge of the wall from the sea. The southern stretch of the city was sandwiched between water and stone like the jaws of a vise. Further west, beyond the Pining Gate, the distance between wall and sea widened, to a point of nearly a mile across where it met the edge of the river that bisected The Stocks.

  On the opposite banks stood a large stone complex, connected by a single stone bridge. The terminal garrison; the last bastion outside of the safety of the top of the palisade. The last settlement of mankind. The farthest outpost they’d dare settle in the wastes of the Outlands.

  From their vantage, the eastern palisade filled a third of the horizon as it stretched from the city to the mountains in the north. The flattened tops of the guard towers stood above the wall in even succession, marking the waypoints for the patrolling guards.

  A single sliver of green extended out from the inside of The Stocks. Ryl recalled the hill at Thayers Rest. He’d begrudgingly tended the crops there only days before his encounter with Da’agryn. Days before the world he knew was turned upside down.

  He chuckled to himself as he thought of how dramatically his life had changed since then.

  His originally planned Harvest was now in less than three days. It was a curious thing that while he was inside The Stocks, he longed for time to slow. The torture, the labor, the animosity, were in a sense better than the unknown of the Harvest. It was preferred to be among the comfort of friends than the lonely prospects their future held. That reality was all the tributes knew. Now on the outside, he begged for the days to shorten. Every falling of the sun marked the end of another day. One less day before the tributes would be free.

  Ryl felt a wave of nausea roll over him as the visions of the processing facility flashed into his mind. He could still smell the sickening stench of refuse, excrement and death. It was one he knew would linger in his senses unforgettably. He felt the familiar heat rising in his veins; his hands balled into fists. His fingernails dug into his hardened skin as he squeezed them together with a fury that burned white hot.

  He searched the horizon one last time, eager to drink in the view again. Ryl turned to the side, finding his friend’s eyes regarding him. The look on Andr's face was one of understanding. A crooked smile tugged up slightly on the mercenary’s lips.

  “There they are, Ryl. Cadsae Proper. The Stocks,” his voice was rigid, yet Ryl could feel the underlying emotion struggling to break through.

  “Welcome back to where it all began, my friend.”

  Chapter 15

  The steady gusts of wind picked up as the made their way ever closer to the coast. The cool breeze off the sea carried the hint of brine and dampness in the air. Ryl pulled the hoods of both cloaks lower over his head, lengthening the shadow that concealed his face.

&nbs
p; A bandage was wrapped tightly around his neck, covering both brands. They'd dabbed a section in the blood of a slab of meat Geshill had purchased from the butcher in Milstead. The stain, now lightly soaked through, would be believable evidence of an injury. One which might garner a few extra looks, but no undue attention.

  Security in Cadsae Proper had been an immediate concern for the advanced scouting trip. With painstaking care, Aldren had created a forged writ of absolution for Ryl in the event that they were stopped and questioned. Andr assured them that the occurrence would be unlikely as the city was far more interested in the festivities that would soon be unfolding across its domain. The thought of the joyous, carnival like atmosphere that descended upon it for the Harvest was revolting.

  He'd seen the celebrations atop the Palisades firsthand far too many times. He witnessed the feral, nearly uncontrollable glee of the sponsors bubble over into hoots and wails of emotion as their long-awaited prize was finally paraded before their eyes.

  The traffic on the road grew heavier as they neared the eastern entrance to Cadsae Proper. Citizens of all walks of life shared the path; in all likelihood, their purpose for traveling to the port city was the same. The volume of traffic on the road was daunting.

  Nobles, dressed in their finery, ringed by well-armed guards and retainers pushed their carriages through the throng of people that had begun clogging the road. Merchants, their wagons dusty and tired from miles of travel worked desperately to hawk their wares. Small groups of poorly clothed workers ambled by. The excited notes of their conversations were sickening. They knew not what they were cheering for.

  Ryl felt the pit open in his stomach as they passed a small family. The father was walking in the lead pulling a weary, old mule that carried his wife and young boy. The look of pure joy written across the face of the child as he gleefully reveled in the surrounding excitement turned Ryl’s stomach. He shook his head as he swallowed the bile that had escaped his gut.