The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4)

by C. J. Aaron

  Not willing to inflict the same pain, Ryl severed his connection when the tree reached a suitable pose. The rushing of the returning world was still as staggering as always. He stumbled a step before he collected his thoughts and control over his body.

  Glancing upstream, to his right he spied the product of his effort. Several meters away a tree stretched over the river. Along his side, the trunk was still a meter or so above his head. On the opposite edge of the water, the tip of the thinning tree stopped a finger’s width from making contact with the hardened earth of the path.

  Ryl sent a thought of thanks to the woods for the continued assistance. Hesitant to prolong the strain on the young tree, he hastened upstream, careful to avoid the loose, soft earth that clung precariously to the top of the small berm above the water below.

  Thankfully, the lower branches made for easy footholds, allowing Ryl to scramble quickly up the trunk. The tree swayed mildly as he reached the peak. A loud groan issued from the wood as his added weight pressed on the straining wood.

  With confidence in his enhanced balance, Ryl rushed forward, dodging branches as he darted across the trunk. With every step, the bend was exaggerated; his fear of causing permanent damage grew. With less than a third of the distance remaining over the water, Ryl sprang from the tree. A final, pained groan sounded before the tree shot upward, swaying dramatically as it returned to its statuesque norm. The shaking of the branches was eerily similar to the act of shaking oneself off to spurn the effects of a particularly strenuous activity.

  He rolled as he reached the ground a meter or so below. The track here was hard, and he prepared for the impact by hardening the skin of his body. The woodskin responded with ease. The jolt of the incoming ground was diminished to nothing more than a subtle jolt.

  Ryl stopped to brush off the dirt he’d accumulated from the pathway. Though it was an unnecessary effort, he glanced over his body, confident that he’d sustained no injuries. The perception of being watched hammered into him with force.

  Ryl’s left hand curled behind his back, a natural reaction to the concern. His hand hadn’t reached the handle of the Leaves before he recognized the source of the feeling.

  The shimmering outline of a figure stood in the pathway between him and the exit of the Erlyn.

  Though a hood covered his face, the grin was clear, peeking through the long, wispy grey beard.

  Da’agryn.

  “With the coming of dawn, your quarry moves further away,” he whispered. His voice was distant. “We’ll be of no assistance to you beyond the bounds of these woods. We are too weakened. Rest is needed now.”

  Ryl nodded.

  “Your assistance will be needed here,” Ryl admitted. “I have little fear of what stands between me and Kaep. The remnants of the army will not slow me if they muster the will to fight. I do worry if they should return their attention to the woods once I pass.”

  “Fear not, my young friend,” Da’agryn breathed. “No man will step foot unescorted into the bastion where your friends reside whether the Erlyn is weary or not. The road to Tabenville will be accessible. They’ll find little else of worth.”

  “And if Elias returns, or was able to pass the knowledge of the clearing to the other Lei Guard, could they open the path?” Ryl quizzed.

  The grin on Da’agryn’s face paled at the question.

  “That failure was ours, Ryl,” he offered. Every passing word became less audible. His ghostly frame flickered like a candle flame sputtering out. “It will not be repeated. We understand the scent of the Lei Guard now, the taint that corrupts the sense of the alexen that still lingers.”

  Ryl opened his mouth to question. Da’agryn held him off with an outstretched hand.

  “I’ve little time and much to say,” he continued. “The process by which the Lei Guard are created is a mystery to me. Though the signature of the tributes, the welcome that you and I have grown to cherish, has been stolen from them, the essence of their power remains. The power in the blood may be yet removed, but the imprint is there. It was an unsettling sensation for the woods. She’ll not allow it any sway again.”

  Ryl was confused by the explanation, though it contained logic that was clear. A fire could be doused, all heat removed, yet the char would announce the burning. Water could be evaporated, yet residue and markings of its passage would be left for all to see.

  “Make haste.” Da’agryn’s body faded rapidly, his voice becoming no more than whispers on the sudden breeze that blew in from the depths of the woods. “Take care that you do not find yourself trapped between the walls of stone and the hatred of humanity. The phrenic will need you.”

  “A phrenic needs me now,” Ryl snapped, immediately regretting the tone of his voice. “I will not abandon them. I will not abandon her while she is still in reach. I will be back in time to move for Vim.”

  Da’agryn nodded as his body faded away into wisps of green. They swirled around Ryl before moving away, carried by a gust of wind into the trees.

  “Watch over them for me,” Ryl whispered.

  The quiet rustling of the leaves overhead was the only reply.

  Chapter 16

  The sunrise rapidly burned off the darkness that had covered The Stocks. Daylight brought a clear sky. Gone were the thin strands of fast-moving clouds that had obscured portions of the heavens the previous night. The air was crisp. The wind blowing from the coast was mild, though steady. The bite from the chill might have irritated him, yet Ryl’s intent was focused, blocking out any hint of cold.

  His vision was fixed, heading due south, following lazy bends of the narrow, dusty road. To his east, the calm river seemed to gurgle louder than normal as if working feverishly to pacify his agitation through its normally pacifying sound.

  Ryl feared that too much time had passed. Elias and Kaep had too great a head start. Faya’s visions had painted an image he had hoped would be true. While he trusted the child, the alexen in his blood and the inherent knowledge they possessed urged him for caution. Early visions to an untrained, unawakened seer could be notoriously tricky. Their interpretations could be erroneous and inconsistent.

  Ryl scanned the area ahead with his mindsight. As it had been the last time, and the time before that, the vision remained clear. Still, he had the lingering sense that Elias was close. There was a darkness that kept urging him forward.

  The head start should have made reaching him unattainable. Likely, Elias’s travel was hampered by his weakened condition. His movements would assuredly be slowed. Having to cart Kaep with him would inevitably delay him further. Ryl internally chided himself for overestimating the true condition of his friend. Was Elias far more hale than Ryl had assumed?

  His actions prior to the arrival of the Lei Guard had done nothing to cause any additional cause for concern. What had happened to enact such a violent swing?

  He had his doubts that any of his trusted friend remained.

  Had he been able to get him to the Erlyn sooner, the tragedy could have been prevented. Losing Kaep, losing another phrenic, was a chilling proposition. He had come to save the tributes, to end the system of Ascertaining, which robbed children from their families. That butchered the faithful who refused to put a price on their love.

  For now, the tributes were safe, hidden away in the security of the Erlyn. Da’agryn had assured them that there would be none to molest them. The woods, though weary, grew stronger by the moment. Her powers had assisted them, creating the illusions that scattered the ten thousand soldiers who’d attempted to run them down. In her weakness, she’d been deceived. There was still a part of the phrenics and of the tributes residing in the shells that posed as the Lei Guard.

  It was an oversight that cost them.

  Ryl felt the stinging loss. The wound of her absence, of his failure to protect those in his care, was all encompassing. The connection he felt for Kaep above all else was unexplainable. He sensed it with every fiber of his being. Merely the remembrance of the electri
city, the energy, the sheer power that had coursed through him with her touch sent a tingle up his arm.

  There was precious little time remaining to find her. The disturbing reality set in, further clouding his mood. Though the early sun shone strong from the sky above, the cloud that hung over him was thick and dark.

  He would likely be faced with a choice. Elias would likely covet his prize. It was unlikely that Ryl could rescue her without the use of force. The battle was likely to require lethal measures. Could he bring himself to kill one friend to save another?

  Ryl gritted his teeth at the frustratingly devious thought. He felt like screaming. The air hissed as it escaped from the slender gaps between his teeth. He needed answers. His frequent scans with his mindsight of the area to his front came back clear. There were no tributes. No Lei Guard. No Elias.

  No Kaep anywhere to be seen.

  Ahead, the horizon to the south was stained with a lingering cloud of dust. The army had risen, yet didn’t appear to be on the move. The force was likely headed north. Headed toward the Erlyn. Their sluggish approach was unsurprising. How far had fear run them afoot? Unnatural storms and lightning had struck with intelligent purpose. Fireballs had sprung from the hands of their attackers. An army had materialized from the impenetrable depths of the woods, instilling fear into even the most rational among them.

  Ryl wondered if there were answers to be found among the swelling disturbance that marred the pristine skyline to the south. Would Elias have sought rest among the army marching toward the woods, or would he have pressed on?

  Would he find himself face-to-face with an army of men, or would Lei Guard season their ranks?

  The familiar heat burning in his veins intensified. Ryl’s pace increased unintentionally, his feet finding an even jog. Anger burned through him; wind swelled unbidden around his right arm.

  An army now stood between him and the truth.

  Ryl had covered the miles rapidly. By midmorning, he slowed to a walk. A sheen of sweat covered his brow, yet he was far from winded. From all appearances, the army that had gathered still lingered where they had camped earlier in the day, though he’d yet to view their numbers.

  The rumpled hills of The Stocks obscured the view past the next. The rolling sensation reminded him of his brief time spent with Lord Eligar. His voyage on the ill-fated frigate and flight in the doomed skiff had been among rough seas. The view of their path was often hidden by the crest of the next wave, the destination always tantalizingly disguised.

  Ryl paused for a moment, doffing his pack and drinking deeply from his waterskin. He chewed on a tough piece of hard bread to satiate the hunger that was growing. The noise from the south pulled his attention from the tough rations.

  The rumble rose over the land like the approach of distant thunder. Tremors quivered the ground as thousands of feet marched as one. Ryl guessed they were close now. The vanguard was likely no more than half a mile distant.

  Curiously enough, there were no forward scouts.

  The oppressiveness that came from being within viewing distance of the palisades had blossomed the moment his body had crossed from the shadows of the Erlyn. The feeling had swelled exponentially as the day progressed. It now pulsed over his body, an added weight that sought to force him down, into compliance. It thundered over him with every footfall of the approaching army.

  The time was fast approaching.

  Ryl’s pace increased to a casual walk as he made his way to the top of the rolling hill before him. The change in elevation was only a matter of a few meters, yet the image that resolved as he approached the crest was dramatic.

  The massed body of the army stretched out for hundreds of meters to the south. Owing to the narrow road, only a few walked on the hard-packed track. Blocked by the river to the east, the rest of the ranks spread out to the west, trampling the newly harvested fields in a disorganized column.

  Ryl reached the peak of the rise and stopped to survey the approaching army. The force had churned the dust into the air. The passing upset the peaceful calm of the morning. The force that approached was notably more compact than the army they’d faced a matter of days earlier. A contingent of cavalry marched in the lead, followed by a host of foot soldiers, who accounted for the vast majority of the total. Behind the warriors, a host of bowmen strode with a casual gait. At their rear was a single large carriage pulled by a pair of large dray horses. The sight of the wagon made Ryl cringe. It was painted all black, while trappings of red accentuated the malice that oozed from it like blood from a wound. No rear guard protected their backs. The approaching army had little concern that any resistance would fall upon their rear.

  A grin tugged up on his lips as he finished his initial survey of the incoming host. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted to his ears. They moved at a casual gait. None were seemingly in a hurry, marching only fast enough to avoid a tongue-lashing from their superiors.

  The sight of the army charged Ryl with a vastly confusing array of emotions. The anger was justified. The systematic persecution had extended for a millennium. He would defend his freedom and the continued freedom of the tributes with his life if necessary. The alexen in his blood jostled with excitement and anticipation.

  Justice would be served.

  Ryl understood the emotions as the pent-up rage for cycles swelled. He struggled to contain the call. His slow and steady breath momentarily satiated the urge to explode. The time was coming, he thought. He was prepared for bloodshed. Mercy would be extended sparingly. Those who bore arms against him would learn the fateful lesson of a phrenic’s rage.

  They were a precious few. Already one had fallen since they’d left the comforts of Vim.

  One was already too much.

  The emotions that surged through him were largely unsurprising. Disturbingly, a solitary voice, low and gravelly, prodded the innermost recesses of his mind. It was a call that was foreign to his memory. The language was unrecognizable, yet he understood every word, comprehended each meaning, reveled in every ill intent.

  It spurned mercy.

  The craving for bloodshed was desperate.

  It urged him to bathe in the blood of those who’d wronged him.

  Pure, unadulterated hatred and malice seethed from its call.

  The raw agitation and the animus were extrinsic. His revulsion at the vile deeds and depravity of the previous master and sub-master wallowed in comparison. The sight of Sarial’s battered body had ignited the pure anger inside, melting away the bonds restraining his power. The flames that had been born of vengeful revulsion couldn’t hold a candle to the blaze of hatred that sought to overtake his actions. The serenity that had washed over his body felt charred by the heat of the animosity. The light seemed dull, clouded by a thick blackness that oozed as it sloughed off the calm that had coated his being.

  His stomach churned as it recoiled over his own malevolence.

  The feeling was startling. Sickening. He closed his eyes, focusing again on the sensation of the alexen in his veins.

  Inhale.

  Hold.

  As he exhaled, he could feel the voice subside. The unmitigated lust for bloodshed faded and with it the nausea. The call was unanswered, though it remained a distant grumble in his mind.

  Ryl made a closer survey of the troops. Kaep and Elias were nowhere to be seen. His roving gaze had catalogued much of the incoming army. His phrenic mindsight displayed no hint of either phrenic or Lei Guard to his front. The blood in his veins boiled with anger as he looked upon the host. Elias and Kaep had passed through before his arrival. He was certain that there would be knowledge of their presence. The truth of their eventual destination was hidden somewhere among the army.

  The wind swelled around his right arm, whipping his cloak out to the side. If necessary, he’d would work his way through the entirety of the force until he found his answer. His eyes squinted, burning with the intensity of an inferno as he glared at the carriage at the rear.

&nbs
p; Ryl knew where he’d start.

  The heat that coursed through his veins, coating his body in flames, led to a serene calm that followed swiftly in its wake. Ryl was at one with his powers. He balled his hands into and out of fists as he looked down upon the troops.

  A cry went up from somewhere within the front ranks as his presence was finally noted. After a moment of stunned silence, a frantic surge of activity rolled over the army. Horses, soldiers, and archers scattered to assume their prescribed positions. Order was dismissed first. It was a frenetic rush to array themselves in some semblance of a line. The struggle reverberated among the army as comrades jostled against each other to be the last to the muster. It was apparent that few desired to be the initial face the assault.

  Whatever it may be.

  Throughout the ranks, Ryl noted the collective body language detrimental to their victory. Though some itched with desire, weapons at the ready, eager to draw first blood, most stood on wavering legs, their weapons, if drawn, were pointed toward the ground. Bows were in hand, while the arrows remained stacked in their quivers. Shoulders were slumped.

  The first time he’d faced the soldiers, he stood among a unified front of phrenics and men. The kingdom’s guards charged, expecting to bowl over the meager force with nothing more than the force of sheer numbers. The earth-shattering defense from the heavens and the woods was as unexpected as it was terrifying. In the eyes of the attacking guard, they had been set upon by forces out of myth. It was astounding in its ferocity.

  Now they looked up the low rise before them at one man. Either supremely confident, or unquestionably fool hearted. Nothing could be seen of the terrain beyond the hill to his rear. What unseen horrors awaited his call?

  Order was loose among the troops that scrambled to attention. The regimented attention to detail that had been instilled under Captain Le’Dral’s watch had been allowed to lapse. The troops before him looked soft. Likely none had seen more bloodshed than the infrequent injury during training and overzealous fights at the occasional drinking establishment.