Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3)

by C. J. Aaron

  As long as the Ascertaining Decree stood, there would be no safety. They'd be imprisoned.

  The system—the Kingdom—must be brought to its knees and the powers that had ruled for an eon replaced. The colossal divide that he had been previously too naive to understand had grown since he'd last stepped through the yawning mouth of the Pining Gates. The rent in the populace was more visible that he’d ever imagined. The task ahead would likely require an army. An army of phrenics—and man.

  Andr and Jeffers had coordinated the movement of the ailing tributes back into the wagons. Sarial had remained by their side throughout. Though she likely needed it not, she willingly accepted the assistance of Mender Jeffers as she climbed into the back of the rear of the reconfigured supply wagon. She moved carefully among the tributes from the facility before taking her seat beside the still form of Elias. Vox, who was mounted on a horse alongside the wagon, nodded as Ryl passed.

  Le’Dral and a small group of men stood beside the lead wagon. Even in the near pitch black of the night, he could see the captain standing, his posture rigid, his arms folded formally behind his back. Two men from the group saluted Le’Dral as Ryl approached; they hastened past heading south, toward the tail of the caravan. He immediately recognized the form of Millis standing to the captain’s side.

  Ahead of Le’Dral, he noted the darkened silhouettes of a score of guards standing in rank across the road leading north. Others lined the edges of the narrow path.

  “The vanguard will remain light,” Le’Dral confirmed. “Millis assured us; no force lingers to the north. The guard will remain along the flanks with the bulk at the rear.”

  Ryl agreed with the plan. With no easy chance to ford the river for miles, they’d likely face no large-scale force until after the next crossing, north of the Stillwater camp and the placid lake from which it claimed its name.

  “The phrenics and I will ride scout at the rear, one will remain with the mender,” Ryl added.

  He could see Millis’ face contort slightly, as if he had something important to say, yet couldn’t find the words.

  “Is there something wrong, Millis?” Ryl asked.

  He saw the relieved smile register across his face.

  “Still perceptive as always, I see,” he replied quietly. His face reverted to its original concern, and he sighed as he continued. “What do you plan to do when they come?”

  Ryl understood his concern. He felt the pain that flavored his words. The lieutenant likely knew personally many of the men who’d be set in their pursuit. He knew that most had not been given the opportunity to make the difficult choice. How many would choose to side with the Kingdom out of fear alone? Fear for not only themselves, but for their family and friends.

  The time was rapidly approaching when all would be forced to decide.

  “I seek not the deaths of those who hunt us even now,” Ryl admitted, his voice honest yet firm. The familiar fire churned in his veins, lighting the blaze that swirled within his eyes. “If our motive was bloodshed, we four could have razed Cadsae Proper to the ground. There is likely no force you could have mustered to stand in our way.”

  Millis gasped at the statement. He saw the captain tense slightly to his side.

  “I say this not with conceit, but with honesty,” he admitted as he turned his eyes on the captain. “What you saw was only a taste of the power at our command. The tributes are already vilified by the population. I'll not willingly turn them into the monsters that people think they are.”

  His eyes returned to Millis. Though he controlled the fire that raged within, the tone softened while the resolve remained firm.

  “We aim to avoid bloodshed at all costs,” Ryl continued. “The phrenics are by nature peaceful, the attributes suited for war born out of necessity. A natural balance of power to hold back the darkness from sweeping over the land. Know that soon all will be called upon to make a choice. We do not seek their death, yet there will be no mercy for those who aim to do us harm. For those who stand in our way.”

  Ryl sighed, his voice taking a low tone.

  “The phrenics you see here today represent a significant portion of the entirety of our people,” he admitted softly. “The tributes here are the hope for our survival. I will defend them, along with anyone here, with my life.”

  Through the darkness Ryl felt Millis’ piercing gaze. Their eyes locked for a moment. Time seemed to freeze; the commotion of the hushed conversations, the thud of the stomping hooves of the agitated horses dimmed to silence.

  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there’s always been more to you than meets the eye,” Millis commented. “Things are vastly different now than when you left. I’m honored to say that you have my friendship and my support.”

  The lieutenant nodded his head subtly before reaching his hand out. Ryl again took the hand of a man who'd in a little over a cycle’s time had gone from a figurehead of the jailors who kept him and the tributes in chains, to a friend.

  The world around him was changing faster than he ever could have dreamed.

  “I have no doubt that they will come,” Le'Dral added. “Maklan will not suffer the insult. When they do, the forward guard will stay with the tributes, Jeffers and the wagons. I will assemble the remainder of the force with Millis.”

  “The cavalry will likely reach us first,” Ryl added. “At first sight, make for the nearest grove. Left in the open, our horses will be negligible in comparison. If any get past the phrenics, they'll roll over your guards like a wave.”

  The captain shook his head in acknowledgement. A pained smile crossed his face.

  “Let us hope it doesn't come to that, my friend,” Le'Dral admitted.

  The weary procession moved northward under the cover of darkness. Their movements were sluggish, and the dark of the cloudy night hindered their pace as much as it hid their movement from the watchful eyes on the Palisades. Millis and another had taken a pair of horses and rode out quietly southwards toward the ruins of the bridge. All knew pursuit was coming; advanced warning would be crucial.

  Ryl rode in a circuit from the vanguard to the rear. At the moment, he was the primary connection between the phrenics, the tributes and the rebel guards that had defected with Le’Dral. He filled the role with hesitance; the eyes of all bore into him with a questioning that ate away at him.

  Their progress was slow, yet unimpeded. With little in the way of varied terrain to bog them down further, they covered ground step by cautious step.

  They’d been moving for over an hour when Ryl was alerted the sound of rapid hoofbeats approaching from the south. With haste he scanned the area with his mindsight, calmed that Kaep and Ramm who were on patrol south of the caravan were showing no sign of alarm. Their glowing signatures maintained constant pace though the noise of approaching horses grew steadily.

  Ryl, who’d been walking with his horse alongside the tributes, cut short his conversation with his friends. Luan and the twins were eager to catch up. They were still in partial disbelief that destiny had reunited them. Young Faya walked alongside Aelin. The pair had been inseparable since nearly the moment they’d met. Ryl had made no attempt to hide the smile that spread across his face as he witnessed the transformation in the normally energetic, stubborn boy. Aelin had been a handful before his Harvest, seemingly caring for neither the menders, the guards, nor Sarial’s commands. He now walked calmly, hand in hand with Faya. His stubborn intensity replaced by a compassionate need for companionship.

  She was one of the few close to his own age. In this alone, they shared a connection that few could hope to understand. Life in The Stocks had for ages forced the children that were confined here to grow and to mature far ahead of their times. Aelin was just another proof of the test. He would treat her as an overprotective big brother dotes over a younger sister. Even as a boy, his strength was nearly unmatched. Ryl feared for the safety of any who’d come intent to do Faya harm.

  With a last reassuring command, R
yl mounted his horse, moving quickly toward the rear of the caravan and the approaching riders. Under the command of the captain, the guard had stopped, fanning out into two small lines. Their hands hovered close to their batons; cautions anticipation written clearly across their faces. The natural sounds of the night, the chirp of the insects, had fallen silent. The quiet burble of the river running alongside was nearly drowned out by the hoofbeats of the horses.

  Ryl reined in his mount alongside the captain, who sat anxiously atop a horse of his own.

  “The phrenics remain, I see no sign of alarm,” Ryl recounted. “Could it be the scouts?”

  The captain peered into the darkness of the road from the south. The thunder of hooves grew rapidly. Ryl searched the area again with his mindsight at the same time his eyes surveyed the darkened surroundings for any sign of alarm.

  From the south a large shape moved in the night, appearing to materialize from nowhere. The figure of a single horse and rider took shape. Its rapid approach came to a skidding stop several meters before their line. The heavy breathing of the horse was the only sound to break the anticipatory hush that had fallen over the area.

  “Captain, I bring news from the scouts,” the familiar voice pierced the foreboding silence.

  Ryl breathed a sigh of relief as he knew the crier.

  “Millis, what news have you of the pursuit?” Le'Dral called into the darkness. Millis slowly walked his horse forward. The instantaneous relaxation that washed over the area was palpable.

  “As expected, their scouts weren't far behind,” Millis announced in a low voice as he came close. “We trailed a pair from Thayers Rest. They are aware of our deception. The cavalry was camped just across the river.”

  The news wasn't unexpected, yet Ryl had hoped their group would be further north before they were intercepted. Attack was an eventuality he accepted was coming. He knew the moment would soon arrive when he, the tributes, the phrenic, and Le’Dral and his men would cross swords with the guards.

  He'd accepted his fate. Accepted the reality.

  Had the rest?

  “They ride now,” Millis continued. “They'll be on us by sunrise.”

  Chapter 30

  The pace they resumed bordered on frenzied. With the element of surprise now lost, lanterns and torches were lit, illuminating their path northward.

  It was still hours before dawn when they passed the Stillwater camp. Behind the silhouettes of the buildings, the faded moonlight sparkled off the calm, tranquil waters of the lake. With the annual migration of fish from the sea long since passed, the waters remained abnormally placid throughout the rest of the cycle.

  They were miles past the camp when the first rays of the sun’s morning light began to brighten the deep violet sky to the east. A light wind blew from the south, carrying the moist chill of the air from the coast. The pungent smell of freshly disturbed earth carried on the currents. A cloud, a dark smudge on the horizon to the south, lifted steadily into the air.

  Ryl rode at the rear, keeping a steady watch on the landscape to the south. The sky lightened rapidly with the coming of the day. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before the forward ranks of the approaching cavalry would be visible in the dim light of the dawn. He noted Le’Dral riding along the western edge of the caravan. The captain stopped his horse, waiting for Ryl to pass before turning around, spurring his mount alongside Ryl’s.

  “Millis’ estimate was correct,” Le’Dral acknowledged. “They’ll be on us not long after daybreak.”

  Ryl pivoted his head at the statement. The cloud of dust rising into the lightening southern sky had grown closer.

  “Less than a mile ahead there is a grove,” Le’Dral continued. “It’ll be our best chance of defense against a mounted charge. They’ll likely not seek to harm the tributes, yet I’d still rather not risk their safety.”

  “I agree, captain,” Ryl shook his head approvingly. “Spread the word; I’ll gather the phrenics and Vigil.”

  Le’Dral nodded his head before urging his mount forward with a curt command. Ryl steered his horse to the side of the column, letting the guards pass as he waited for the phrenics to arrive. Ramm and Vox rode with the rear guard.

  “Looks like they desire another show of force,” Ryl called quietly as he trotted purposefully to his location. “We’ll stop at the next grove. We’ll be the vanguard for whatever force that comes.”

  Ryl knew that the phrenics would stand beside him; would fight any foe willingly. They were brothers and sisters in arms. They were forever bonded by blood. Their destinies were intertwined.

  “I’ll collect the Vigil and Kaep,” he added. “I want none to pass our ranks.”

  His statement was profound. His resolution adamant. There was always the knowledge that blood would need to be spilled, no matter how much he wished to avoid it. The inevitable had likely arrived on their tails.

  Ryl rode forward collecting Andr and the Vigil from their places among the black wagon of tributes. A few lengths ahead, Jeffers rode at the head of his moving medical clinic, with Sarial in the rear and young Elora by her side. The pair of tributes looked up, offering weak smiles, before returning to their work changing the blood-soaked bandages that wrapped Cavlin’s torso.

  Soldi and Nielix were to remain with the wagons. Rolan offered his blade to the cause, yet Ryl politely turned his services down, insisting that he protect his daughter and assist in guarding the wagon. Le'Dral had ordered a force of ten to remain with the tributes as they hurried into the relative safety of the small grove.

  In most situations, it would be a token force. Today it represented nearly a third of their paltry army.

  The first sliver of the morning sun was clearing the top of the eastern palisade as Ryl reined his horse to a stop on the main road. Ahead, the jagged peaks of the Haven mountains stretched into the sky. The colossal statue of Taben the Defender stood defiant, his back against the front of the range, his eyes locked forever to the west.

  Ryl's heart raced as he noted the vibrant green leaves of the massive trees of the Erlyn Woods. The fabled forest was nearly within reach. He longed to be under her embrace. The safety, the understanding, the hope pulled him forward. Though he knew the distance was yet too great, he could almost feel the tingle of her call in his body.

  His focus shifted to the immediate. Some thirty meters to his front the crude line of the sleepy grove now brimmed with activity. A swarm of tributes hastened to the cover of her branches. A step from the tree line, a line of guards stood steadfast. Mixed between their ranks tributes, armed with any weapon they could attain, plugged the holes. Some carried batons, others crude cudgels, others nothing more than hastily sharpened sticks. They were not taking their defense idly.

  They fought for a freedom that they had been denied. They fought for their lives.

  Several meters ahead, a pitiful line of cavalry stood. The mounts stomped anxiously, their ears tuned in to a sound that had yet to reach the ears of their riders. Andr held the right of the line beside Captain Le'Dral. Millis and four other guards accounted for the remainder of the mounted line, sitting tall with backs straight, watching the growing cloud from the south.

  Ahead of the horses and riders, the three phrenics stood like statues. The only motion was the gentle rippling of their grey cloaks in the wind. One carried a bow with an arrow nocked at the ready. The other a hammer so large it nearly defied explanation. The last stood with his empty hands at his side, his left fist flexing open and closed with eager promise. Their hoods remained drawn; their faces hidden in shadow.

  Ryl looked back upon the assembled force with a swelling pride, though his apprehension grew. He locked eyes for a moment with Andr and then the captain. His eyes traveled past the pair to the line of guards, Vigil and tributes. The Vigil held the only steel blades among the bunch, their faces locked in a determined stare toward the south. The expressions of uncertainty became prevalent among the faces of Le’Dral’s guards and tributes.r />
  There were no speeches needed. No words to bolster their spirits. All knew what they stood in defense of. All understood what they were fighting for.

  At the far right of the line another tribute stepped forward, joining the defensive line. It was Cray.

  Ryl looked at Andr, meeting the knowing eyes of his friend one last time before the coming onslaught. The mercenary had noticed too. A brief, proud smile tugged up on the corners of his lips. His face beamed with pride long enough for the emotion to register before he buried it under steely resolve.

  “Like father, like son,” Ryl commented quietly.

  Ryl was hesitant to call the gathering an army.

  He closed his eyes, focusing on the power, the alexen in his blood. The heat of the excited energy rushed through his body, spreading outward; warming every inch of him from the inside out. He projected out an awesome feeling of resolute defiance. The immovable conviction spread across those gathered before him.

  He could see their resolve harden. He witnessed their posture straighten as they prepared themselves for whatever the Kingdom was about to throw at them.

  Ryl grinned as he pulled the hood over his head, drowning his face in shadow.

  He pivoted, stalking silently to the line of phrenics, settling into the opening between Vox and Kaep. Ramm stood at the end, the butt of his massive warhammer resting patiently on the hard ground. The cloud of dust rising from the horizon to the south had grown rapidly. The sound of hooves on the earth rumbled like the roll of thunder across the sky. Through the haze of dust, the forms of the mounted riders slowly coalesced into shape. Sunlight flashed off the metal of their naked blades.

  They intended this to be a slaughter.

  The riders continued their approach. The seemingly endless cavalcade resolved from the haze into an overwhelming force. They rode bunched together in a tight formation given the narrow confines of the road. With practiced precision, the riders slowed, fanning out into three lines, each nearly one hundred horses long.