Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3)

by C. J. Aaron

  The group of Le’Dral’s guards had paused waiting for their arrival. The looks of uncertainty were abundant, written across many of their faces.

  They had just stared down an enemy army. They'd watched a far greater force appear and disappear without warning or explanation. They'd witnessed the sky above oven up with a coordinated fury that was unheard of.

  The solitary hooded figure standing just inside the shadow of the woods gave them pause.

  Ryl stepped forward, walking confidently toward the man. To him, the figure looked far more fragile, far more delicate that it had only moments before.

  Before Ryl could close the distance, the phrenic at the woods’ edge nodded subtly before turning and staggering backwards into the darkness of the entrance

  The rustle of leaves heralded his disappearance. The woods shuddered as if breathing a sigh of relief.

  Chapter 37

  The tributes and the caravan had reached Tabenville before Ryl and the guards had finished their journey through the Erlyn's gloomy interior. Le'Dral had left a group of six mounted warriors at the head of the path, though none feared the return of the army before the morrow at the earliest.

  From the edge of the forest, Ryl watched the visible remains of the panic-riddled army fleeing frantically into the distance. All semblance of order and civility had retreated with them as they went. The stampede of bodies climbed over and clawed at each other with no regard for any—save themselves. Remnants of the massive force scattered, moving away across the terrain in paths of least resistance, like marbles across a board. Some even took to crossing the icy waters of the river to flee.

  Ryl remained at the entrance, while Andr and the phrenic hovered close by until the last of the enemy army disappeared into the distance. The heads of the phrenics turned cautiously, observing the Erlyn that closed around them with a sense of wonder and awe. Andr's face was impassive, though his eyes frequently returned to where the figure had melted back into the tree line.

  Closing his eyes, Ryl sent a brief, yet powerful feeling of thanks to the woods. There was a disturbing pause as he waited for a response. His eyes beheld the trees longingly. Their mighty branches seemed to droop as if weighed down by an unseen force. Even the choking brambles along the edge appeared less dense than he was accustomed to seeing.

  When the sensation did come, it was barely more than the rustle of the leaves. The feeling of relief that lapped over him from the Erlyn’s depths was weak and tired. He took a step into the mouth of the woods, resting his hand gently on the rough bark of one of the trees that framed the opening. He connected with the forest, steeling himself as a deluge of information flooded his senses.

  Ryl felt a sense of relief and welcome ripple up his arm from where it made contact with the tree. There was an unquestionable sense of joy, yet lingering tendrils of fear overshadowed the bliss. Even though fleeting, they clouded the other emotions as a single puff of dark cloud blots out the sun on a clear day.

  The woods fell still; the footsteps of the leading groups had exited the road that passed through her domain. He could feel the light tapping of movement outside the entrance to Tabenville, likely the Vigil or guard who had been assigned watch duty. The sensations however were fleeting and surprisingly subdued. He noted the supreme effort in every simple motion of the trees. Even the swaying of the upper branches in the wind felt sluggish, sleepy.

  Ryl hesitantly removed his hand from the tree, squinting his eyes as the discomfort of the broken connection rolled through him. His thoughts were morose; his concern overshadowed the victory they'd just achieved. The sound of Andr's voice snapped him out from the darkened recesses of his mind.

  “Who was that phrenic who called the army?” He asked calmly. “Where did he go?”

  Ryl arced his gaze across the forest, ending its review as his eyes met those of the mercenary.

  “By his own admission he's gone by many names throughout the ages,” Ryl offered. “I know him as Da'agryn. The Erlyn led me to him a little over a cycle ago. Only the day before I met you. Others know him by a different name. Isn't that right?”

  Ryl turned as he directed his question to the phrenics standing a few steps away.

  They nodded their heads in nearly perfect unison.

  “Aye, that was a man easily recognized,” Vox answered for the group. His voice was quiet, almost reverent. “We've come to know him only as the prophet.”

  “How's that possible?” Andr interrupted.

  Ryl chuckled as he clapped his friend on the shoulder.

  “You can ask him soon enough, my friend,” he said with a smile.

  The conversation was subdued as they moved quickly after their group through the depths of the forest. Ryl felt an uncontrollable feeling of peace as he walked through the shade of the Erlyn. Being under her boughs was a comfort he could not deny. The familiarity of the woods was unmistakable. He knew every tree, recognized every blade of grass along the path, as if he'd spent a lifetime walking among them. The quiet babble of the river at his side was a constant, calming melody.

  It wasn't long before they exited the tranquility of the forest to a vastly contrasting scene. The normally sleepy village was abuzz with a flurry of activity, far beyond its norm. The accumulation of nearly five hundred individuals filled the settlement to well beyond its capacity. Tabenville was overflowing with life. Teeming with tributes and guards.

  The wealth of activity spilled outward from the normally sedated village, spreading out into the surrounding recently harvested fields. The hooves of horses and the feet of men and women trod carelessly across the idle farmland.

  The small stable that marked the outermost building of Tabenville now swelled, incapable of containing the nearly one hundred horses who accompanied their miniscule force. Both guard and tribute alike worked hastily, repurposing fences and spare boards to pen in the herd.

  Ryl could see the captain ahead in the square. His arms showed evidence of the commands as he spoke to both tribute and guard alike. Behind him the massive statue of Taben the Defender loomed, the swirling mists from the thundering falls at his side shrouding the area in an ethereal aura.

  The phrenics stopped as they entered. Ryl paused with them, smiling as their eyes drank in every detail of the area before them. They'd only heard of the Erlyn, the statue, the falls and the village in the stories and tomes passed down through the generations. None from their hidden city of Vim had ever set foot back into the civilizations of Damaris.

  Ryl surveyed the surroundings with his friends. The simple beauty of the area had been lost on him during his entrapment in The Stocks. He looked upon the village now with fresh eyes. He viewed the area with an awakened mind—the understanding of the alexen that had seen, felt and experienced the lives of thousands of phrenics before him.

  It was with effort that he removed himself from his revenant viewing, moving several steps forward to Andr, who'd waited patiently for them to continue.

  “Back to where it all started, eh?” The mercenary offered with a grin as Ryl approached.

  Ryl placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

  “Aye, my friend,” he responded quietly. “If not for your assistance, it would have ended here too.”

  “You make too much of my assistance,” he said dismissively. “I have no doubt you would have found a way. Though I'm proud to have come along on the journey.”

  Their heads turned as the shrill sound of Mender Jeffers’ voice from the square cut through the rumble of the falls in the distance. Ryl noted the agitation in the normally impassive mender’s face as he directed the movement of the injured, as well as the medical supplies, into the dry confines of the officer’s quarters.

  Ryl felt the approach of the phrenics from their rear.

  “Come, there is much to do,” he said as he pivoted to greet them.

  “Welcome to Tabenville.”

  Chapter 38

  It was hours before the fervent commotion within Tabenville had subs
ided to some semblance of its normal calm. Ryl had met with the captain, the remaining guards and tributes in the swirling mists of the square. Though they were for the moment safe within the confines of Tabenville there was still much that needed to be accomplished.

  Ensuring the safety of everyone within Tabenville—tribute, guard and phrenic alike—was their overriding priority. To that extent, Le'Dral and his officers, Millis and Moyan determined the patrol schedule for the bulk of the guards and cavalry. They would maintain a steady watch over both the entrance and exit to the woods. A contingent of mounted soldiers would remain at the entrance to the Erlyn, where the forest gave way to the orchard and plains beyond. Here their eyes were trained on the gently rolling terrain of The Stocks, watching for signs of the returning army. Though no hint of their approach had been noted as of yet, none believed that their reprieve would last long.

  A second watch remained at the mouth of the Erlyn where the forested path exited into the settlement of Tabenville. This small party consisted of Vigil, guard, and cavalry alike. The patrols of their horses remained in regular contact with their counterparts standing sentry at the other side of the dark woods.

  The wounded were the next priority that the beleaguered party sought to remedy. Between the battles, ambush and the tributes from the facility, Jeffers had his hands full. Sarial remained his steadfast assistant, delegating the work among any who'd volunteered to assist with the varied degrees of required treatments. The mender remained in command of the most severe of the cases, leaving Sarial overall autonomy to remedy the rest.

  Ryl had yet to discuss at length the plan for brewing the remedy they carried with them— the dried, potent smelling leaves of the blighted rose. They had no concept of how great of an effect the potion would have, however it was mutually agreed upon that it would diminish the duration of the coming sickness. Even if it were to shorten the length by half, they were still looking at nearly half a moon before they'd likely be hale enough to travel.

  Would they be granted that lengthy a reprieve?

  Would they need to fight to earn every extra day?

  The tributes accounted for the majority of their force, however, they were all untrained and malnourished. The able-bodied fighting force would be pitifully small.

  Ryl met with the phrenics and Andr alongside the edge of the clogged central square. His eyes wandered to the edge of the pier that stretched out over the turbulent pool at the waterfall’s base. Chills rushed through his body, spreading gooseflesh across his skin. So much had happened here, it was hard to believe that it was only a little over one cycle ago that he had pitched into the icy waters; bringing an end to the torturous reign of sub-master Osir.

  Ramm and Vox agreed to remain in the village, assisting with finding shelter for those who were now desperately in need. It was certain that Ramm's strength would be of great use. Vox was adamant that he'd recovered sufficiently from the overtaxing use of his skills, yet the unsteady wobble of his legs told another story altogether.

  The sum of the precious packages of dried leaves were left with in their care as Ryl, Kaep and Andr prepared for their task at hand. It was with a twinge of apprehension that he departed Tabenville again, bound for the Erlyn. He'd only just been reunited with the tributes, with his friends; now he was leaving once more, albeit he was only entering the woods at the town’s border.

  They walked in silence as they approached the towering wall of trees forming the end to the clearing that held the village. The feeling of calm from the woods washed over him as he crossed into the shadows of the Erlyn's entrance, pacifying the lingering distress that tugged at his senses.

  The interior of the Erlyn was quiet. The soft babbling of the lazy river that snaked through its domain failed to penetrate far past its banks. They traveled just beyond the first bend in the river, leaving behind the last rays of the sun's light that entered through the opening. Ryl stopped, turning to face the edge of the woods to his right.

  The view into the midst of the forest remained gloomy; his vision penetrated only several meters. The brambles and bushes lining the edge however, looked considerably less dense than he recalled, the thorny gaps in the undergrowth now almost navigable. How much energy had the Erlyn expended for their sakes?

  Ryl stopped and looked to his companions.

  "Kaep, care to show us the way?" He asked.

  The phrenic archer glanced at him with a look of profound confusion.

  "I know nothing of the paths beneath these limbs," she acknowledged. Her eyes wandered the forest before her with childlike awe.

  "You need not know the paths," Ryl explained. "The Erlyn will show the way. Once you've seen a location once, returning there will be done with ease. All you need to do now is to ask for the person."

  Her eyes settled back on Ryl.

  "Close your eyes,” he continued. "Focus on the image of the prophet. Visualize every detail; be as precise as you can. Send the image out, like you’re conveying the emotion to others. She will hear you.”

  A spark of understanding flashed across her face before she turned her gaze back toward the forest. Ryl and Andr watched on silently as she closed her eyes and concentrated. Her brows furrowed as her facial muscles twitched ever so slightly and her lips pursed as she retained her pointed focus. The rate of her breathing increased, coming in shallow spurts.

  After several long moments, she opened her eyes. Kaep collapsed forward, bending at the waist, placing her hands on her knees. She was panting for air, her chest rising and falling dramatically with every inhale and exhale.

  Her eyes rose to the edge of the forest in front of her. The woods appeared as they had moments earlier. Her disappointment was evident.

  “It didn't …” her voice stopped mid-sentence as a distant rustle of leaves caught her ear. The patch of woods before her shifted.

  Trees rippled like water. Limbs and bramble distorted before twisting into a narrow opening that led into the forest beyond. Ahead, a long, clear tunnel, lit by dim patches of glowing mosses stretched into the distance.

  "Well done, Kaep," Ryl admonished the awestruck, winded phrenic. "Like all the skills, it gets easier with practice."

  She met his eyes, nodding in acknowledgement. Ryl took a step forward, entering the pathway into the forest.

  A wave of nostalgia rolled through his body as he recalled his first trip along this very path. The ground remained clear of leaves and detritus, having the look of being freshly swept. The branches overhead formed a solid living ceiling several meters above their head. The trunks of the trees lined the edges of the path; brambles and shrubs filled in the gaps between.

  The woods smelled damp, a heavy mixture of earth and decaying plants, though the aroma was laced with a hint of smoke. A flickering pinpoint of light flashed in the distance. Ryl knew the location of that fire. His heart leaped at the thought of who'd be waiting alongside the blaze.

  "Come, Da'agryn awaits," he offered as he quickened his pace along the straight forest path.

  "Can any other than the phrenics command the paths through the Erlyn?" It was Andr who broke the silent revelry of their passage through the arboreal tunnel.

  "I've never heard tales of the woods answering to the calls of any other than a phrenic. Yet, I admit the breadth of my knowledge on the subject is lacking," Ryl responded quietly. "That is a decision for the Erlyn herself."

  Andr grunted in acknowledgement as they proceeded forward. It wasn't long before their forested path ended as the tunnel to the cave’s interior began. Ryl entered without hesitating, moving into the glistening hall.

  The fire that burned in the open chamber ahead was weak compared to his recollection of his first visit. The feeble light danced off the reflective walls, casting its reflections throughout the earthen room. Even with the unnatural glow, deep shadows lingered in many places. He studied the room ahead as it opened before them. With every step forward, a more complete picture of the interior materialized. As his field of vision in
creased, so too did his apprehension. Da'agryn was nowhere to be seen with his eyes, or with his mindsight. It wasn't until they'd almost fully entered the cavern that his presence was noted.

  The cave and its furnishings looked much as it had the last time Ryl left. Aside from the pallets he'd slept on while he slumbered there for the night, the rest looked unused for ages. The table remained as before; in a state of permanent neglect for centuries. Hunched along the right wall, seated on the bench that jutted out, a lone, hooded figure sat.

  The elder phrenic was slouched forward with his arms folded across his chest, and his head bobbed as if he was sleeping. Though his form appeared hale, there was something about it that seemed off. His body shimmered in places, much like a glint of light reflecting off of a shiny object below the water’s surface.

  "Da'agryn?" Ryl breathed as they stopped inside the entrance to the cave.

  "The prophet!" Kaep whispered.

  Ryl raised his hands, removing the hood from his head. He heard the rustle of the cloth from behind, knowing that Kaep had done the same.

  "Welcome back, Ryl. Welcome friends," the man replied. His voice was weak, airy and coarse. "Your coming brings much joy to my tired being."

  His eyes wandered down to Ryl's right arm before moving to and pausing on his left.

  "Ever the surprise, I see," he grinned.

  "Aye. Thank you for your assistance at the orchards, Da'agryn," Ryl replied politely. "Countless lives owe you thanks.”

  Da’agryn waved off the recognition with a sluggish flick of his wrist.

  “I've learned much,” Ryl continued. “There is far more I've yet to fully understand.”

  Ryl held out his left arm, rubbing it subconsciously with his right hand.

  The elder phrenic looked up. The crooked smile that blossomed over his wispy beard was slight, yet heartfelt.