The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4)

by C. J. Aaron

  None made him feel comfortable, yet acceptance of them was a necessary evil. They unfortunately could not be controlled.

  “There are other phrenics here? In Damaris?” Old Man Averine’s excitement was poorly concealed. His body trembled with emotion.

  Ryl cast a rapid glance to his side, meeting eyes with Fay. The lord wore a broad smile. He nodded subtly, silent acknowledgment that there was nothing to fear.

  “Aye. There are more. Phrenics once again walk openly in Damaris,” Ryl acknowledged.

  Averine grabbed the back of a chair at the closest table, dragging it with him as he approached. The wooden legs scraped as they skipped across the floorboards. Without asking, he wedged the chair between Ryl and Aelin to his side. The confused young tribute graciously moved aside as the newcomer joined the party at the table.

  “I can see from your markings that you too have joined the brethren,” he mumbled to himself. His hands fell upon Ryl’s right arm without consent. “The tattoos cannot lie. A masterwork.”

  Lord Eligar cleared his throat from Ryl’s opposite side. The attention snapped the enamored man from his investigation. Breila merely watched the scene with unveiled surprise and shock. Aelin, for his part, tried his best to contain his abject amusement at the absurdity of the actions.

  Old Man Averine’s eyes were apologetic as they returned to Ryl’s face.

  “The prophecy of the seer Lupl has withstood the testament of time,” he announced as his voice choked with emotion.

  Moisture swelled in the corners of his eyes.

  “The catalyst has returned.”

  The old man buried his face in his hands and wept.

  Chapter 34

  It was several long moments before Averine regained enough control of his faculties to entertain conversation. He looked suspiciously at Aelin and Breila, leaning closer toward Ryl and Lord Eligar as he spoke.

  “There is much I need to tell you in the assuredly abbreviated time we have together,” he cautioned. “I know the loyalties of you and our young lord. Your friends are strangers to me.”

  Ryl raised his hand, stopping the elderly man before he continued.

  “The boy beside you is a tribute, like me. The woman I trust with my life,” Ryl stated emphatically. “I assure you, your words risk nothing in their presence.”

  Averine pondered the statement for a moment, casting his appraising look between Ryl and his companions. He turned his head to Aelin, his wild look reverting into one of genuine concern and compassion.

  “My boy, though my words will likely mean nothing to one who has suffered the cruel twist as you have, know that I am truly sorry.” Averine teetered on the verge of tears once more. He placed his hand tenderly on Aelin’s shoulder. “We have failed you. We were not strong enough, not wise enough to save you. We have done all we could from the shadows. I’m afraid nearly all went unnoticed.”

  Aelin was speechless. His eyes appraised the elderly man before him. Ryl watched as his hands balled into and out of fists. He knew the battle that was raging in his mind—it was one he had suffered through on countless occasions before the cold acceptance numbed the pain.

  “It is I who need to thank you,” Ryl announced, breaking the moment between elder and tribute. “If it weren’t for you, I would languish in a processing facility to this day. Yet I still don’t understand how you found me. How did you know what I was to become?”

  The expression on Averine’s face, moments ago a picture of remorse and sadness, morphed as he turned his head again to Ryl. The grin threatened to split his face in two. He seemed to beam with joy and pride.

  “To understand that, you must know who we are. What we have worked for generations to achieve,” he continued. “To call us an organization would categorize us in a dangerous way. We are a movement with no structure, no name. There is no hierarchy to breed jealousy or contempt. We have remained as nothing more than the whisper of discontent since the inception of the Ascertaining Decree. We have watched silently, helping from the shadows when we can.”

  He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he carried on with his explanation. Ryl found himself listening with rapt attention, though he knew time was short. The streams of light from the fading sunlight had vanished, giving way to the comforting disguise of darkness. He needed to find Kaep. The darkness of the night would be his aid.

  “From parents to siblings, we have passed on our silent legacy,” Averine carried on without pause. “I was steeped in the phrenic lore from the time I was but a boy, as was my father and his before. The name was kept alive in the strictest of confidence.”

  Ryl took a minute to digest the information that was relayed, though questions remained.

  “How have you kept track of the tributes?” Ryl quizzed. “How could you have known when the catalyst would come?”

  “There is a simplicity in the plan, yet the initial sacrifices were great.” Averine shook his head sadly. “There were those who sacrificed themselves. They discarded their morals, their families for the promise of hope. Though it may be generations beyond when the world would remember their name or deed. Their sin, their pledge of fealty to the king, cost them the freedom of their lives, though they would be proud to know it has saved yours.”

  Averine leaned forward, placing his bony elbows on the table. He rubbed his hands together idly.

  “So you see, the monarchical indifference that has plagued this kingdom has blindly rewarded generations based on a solitary, feigned act of fealty,” Averine said. “The blessing has allowed single families to pass positions of power from father to son for generations. Though some have waned over the cycles, we’ve managed to hold more than we could have ever expected. In the times of Taben, in the days before the Battle of the Erlyn Woods, we were scholars. We were educators. We were apprentices to the phrenic masters of the day. We failed them when they pleaded for assistance. Many now are still menders. Several hold positions of knowledge among the Deliverance.”

  He reached for Ryl’s glass of wine, which rested untouched on the table. Averine brought it to his lips, taking a healthy sip before resuming his tale.

  “We have monitored the test results of tributes for ages,” he continued. “The test results, stripped of human details, have kept us from losing our grip on sanity as countless were sentenced to a life worse than death at the complacency of our hands. We have watched the children torn from their families. We’ve kept a discreet eye on them from the mighty palisades. We know of their final destinations at one of the three devious processing facilities.”

  Averine cackled. It was a shrill note that was as unexpected as it was startling.

  “Rumor has reached my ears that the processing facility at Martrion has burned. That the tributes have been moved. Only two remain now.” The old man let his eyes settled on Ryl, fixing him with a pointed stare. “We have waited, watching for the signs of active alexen. We have been waiting. Waiting for so long. Waiting for you, Ryl.”

  Ryl couldn’t help the agonizing anger that threatened to bubble up inside. The sheer indifference had destroyed the lives of thousands of children. Ripped countless families apart, divulging the true abhorrent greed of some, expounding on the utter grief and misery of others. He felt the alexen in his blood race through his veins, though the fire of anger was markedly absent.

  The sensation that coursed through him was as confusing as it was overwhelming. It was grief. It was agony. It was understanding.

  Lives had been lost. Lives had been sacrificed.

  All for a time when the one with active alexen would be discovered.

  The weight of the decision crushed down on him. It smothered him under the misery of thousands. The suffering, the pain and deaths of every one were his to bear.

  His shoulders slumped as his head drooped forward.

  The blood in his veins churned with agitation. This time a single emotion was forced to the forefront.

  It was acceptance.

>   The alexen understood the sacrifices that were made to prevent the complete annihilation of their brethren. The agonizing weight of the decision had been theirs. They worked to remove the guilt. To absolve the blame from Ryl.

  His eyes lit with a determined fire.

  He stood abruptly. His chair skidded backward before toppling.

  The blood in his veins rushed with the fire and heat that permeated every fiber of his body.

  He met the eyes of Averine still seated at the table. The old man’s body shook with excitement pent up for ages.

  “The decisions they made were unenviable. They placed the life of one above all others,” Ryl groaned. “I refuse to willingly sacrifice another. Kaep is still out there.”

  The fire cooled as his eyes met with the remainder of his companions seated around the table.

  “Fay, Breila, Averine,” he whispered, “I thank each of you for the sacrifices you’ve made on my behalf. If it weren’t for you, I’d likely be dead or still enslaved.”

  Fay rose to his feet, placing an arm on Ryl’s shoulder.

  “Our assistance is far from over, my friend,” Lord Eligar professed. “My army is here at your disposal. What will you have us do?”

  Ryl thought momentarily before responding.

  “The East Ward still burns,” he growled. “I fear the entire district will be consumed by the fires of their hatred. Pockets of Maklan’s guards remain unrestrained. They are small yet murder with impunity. Put an end to them.”

  “We’ve run down several patrols to this point,” Fay acknowledged. “Though others have likely holed up. Ready to strike from the shadows.”

  “Your men will need to use caution,” Ryl explained. “The city will be lost. It’s only a matter of time before the king’s army and the army of the houses arrive. We must hold the Pining Gates and the palisade when they arrive. Their numbers will amount for little. It will take but a few to hold the gate against the larger force.”

  A nagging worry crept into Ryl’s mind as his thoughts turned to the logistics of housing an army of that size.

  “How long will your provisions last?” Ryl quizzed.

  Fay smiled at the comment. “We have less than two moons’ rations aboard the ships, much of which has been off-loaded already,” Fay answered, though his grin illustrated more was yet to come. “Conveniently enough, the bulk of the crops hauled from The Stocks over the last moon still lie in storage at the port. We’ve already begun transferring it back into wagons. It’ll give us a few more moons, though it won’t last indefinitely.”

  Ryl couldn’t help but mirror Lord Eligar’s smile.

  “That will be more than enough, Fay,” Ryl admitted. “We don’t aim to remain forever. Once the tributes have recovered, we aim to abandon The Stocks. If we need to remain longer, never forget whose hands it has been who’ve tilled the soil inside those walls for ages. We know the land better than any. We aim to leave Damaris. There is a home for the phrenics away from the perpetual servitude that has plagued them here. Once you step foot inside those walls, there may be no returning home for you or your men.”

  Fay nodded his head in agreement. His smile was pained, yet his face resolute.

  “It is a risk I understand, that my men understand,” Fay acknowledged. “They believe in the hope that you’ve instilled. They’ve seen return possible.”

  “It’s a nagging feeling, yet I believe the situation will come to a head sooner rather than later,” Ryl said. “The king is here. He’s ordered the might of the kingdom to this small corner of the known world. For what purpose? Troops were likely on the move before we disrupted the Harvest. There is a darkness stirring in the Outlands the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the time of Taben. I’ve seen it firsthand. I can feel it still.”

  There was a gasp from those seated around the table.

  “Fay, see to your men,” Ryl ordered. “Make them ready. They must fall back to the safety of The Stocks when ordered. Leave a contingent to guard the bridge. I want nothing to leave that garrison, to cross that bridge without notice.”

  “Aye. I have a plan for that structure.” Fay grinned.

  Ryl clapped the young lord on the shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.

  “Breila, may I ask another favor of you?” Ryl inquired. “We’ve travelled with you this far, would you have room to house my young friend here for the night? I need to have a closer look at the garrison. Alone.”

  The madam chuckled as she rose.

  “Of course, Ryl,” she said. “It’s rare I have the opportunity to entertain any at my home, and there is more than enough space. Lord Eligar, your retinue are welcome as well.”

  “I thank you kindly,” Fay said, offering a shallow bow. “Though I doubt your neighbors would think kindly of one of your station hosting members of an invading army.”

  “My lord.” The voice carried from the side of the room where the bar stood. Ekard leaned against the polished wooden railings of the bar, a mug in hand.

  “Take my carriage,” he offered. “I’ll not need it. It’s the least I can do to help.”

  Fay bowed again, this time to his friend.

  “As always, your hospitality leaves me in awe, my friend,” he said.

  With the impromptu meal and meeting adjourned, the party filed back out toward the square. Aelin walked beside Breila, with wiry Old Man Averine at their heels.

  Ryl crossed the small room, shaking hands with Ekard, finding his own enveloped by the warm, sturdy grasp of his host.

  “Take care, young man,” he whispered. “It’s long past time someone stood up. We have all been too weak to raise our voices.”

  Ryl smiled as he nodded. The reverence and the thanks were grating, though he understood the sentiment. The population had been subjugated for so long, even the mere thought to question had been bred out over generations.

  Fay was the last to thank their host. Ryl saw the flash of silver as their hands met.

  “This is far too much for the services I’ve rendered,” Ekard complained as he tried adamantly to reject the sum. Fay’s persistence won out in the end. The barkeep begrudgingly pocketed the coins.

  Fay followed a step behind, so Ryl noted when he paused abruptly in the threshold of the door. He turned his head as the metallic ring of a coin sounded as Fay flicked a final coin toward Ekard before exiting.

  Gold shimmered in the air as the door shut behind them.

  Darkness had fully descended as they made way from the cafe to the carriage that had been pulled up in front of the building. There was a crisp tang to the night air, a potent saltiness that carried on the wind.

  Fay stepped to the side, engaging in a rapid discussion with several officers of his modest army. Breila opened the door to the carriage, ushering Aelin ahead. The young tribute yawned as he clambored into the wagon. The madam held a brief conversation with the driver, her hand pointing toward the west. Toward her home.

  Ryl paused as the cold grasp of fingers closed around his forearm. He turned his head, greeting Old Man Averine’s unusually lucid stare.

  “I understand the plight that is yours to bear,” he whispered, his face close to Ryl’s. “Though I can do little to ease the burden, know that I believe in you. I follow generations of those who have seen your success night by night in their dreams.”

  Ryl’s look was curious. The old man was an anomaly to him. The compassion, the dedication had survived successive generations without faltering. They had maintained their silent vigil in the hopes that the catalyst would return.

  That he would free the tributes from their seemingly endless toil.

  “I’ve watched you from afar since you were a boy,” he continued. “Whether it was on paper or in person. They never understood your true worth. They could never understand the hope that you’ve brought to an old man like me. To the nameless who’ve worked silently awaiting your arrival.”

  Ryl was speechless. He watched as the tears formed in the corners of Averine’
s eyes.

  “You have brought hope to an old man who had nearly given up on the concept,” he whispered. “You’ve made us proud. There is nothing I’ve heard from Lord Eligar or from eyewitness reports of your actions that would make me believe otherwise.”

  His tearful gaze focused on Ryl with a moment of resolution.

  “Do not let that hope die,” Averine warned. “No matter how dark things become. We will always believe in you. Whether you believe it yourself. The kingdom is ready for the change that you will bring.”

  Without another word, Old Man Averine turned and wandered away toward the center of the square. He ran his hand along the back of Lord Eligar as he passed. Fay paused, casting a side eye at the wandering senior. Averine hummed to himself as he strolled across the square. The stubborn old man shooed off any assistance as he sauntered onward, disappearing into the darkness of the avenue leading to the east. With a nod from Fay, a pair of guards separated from their party, hastening after the retreating shadow of the ancient watcher.

  Ryl’s eyes followed the pair until the escort for Old Man Averine had disappeared into the darkness of the avenue, before ascending the step to the carriage. The crude wooden shocks squeaked wildly as he added his weight to the modest wagon. He took in one last view of the city that surrounded him before entering.

  To the east, the lights of the seemingly abandoned city still flickered in the newly arrived darkness. A halo of orange light pulsed over the tops of the buildings in the distance. The swirling breeze from the sea brought the occasional hint of the smoke. There were moments that he could have sworn he heard screams carried by the wind, yet he attributed many to his rampaging imagination.

  To the west the image was more scattered. The mansions were spread out. Their sprawling complexes nestled comfortably upon large tracts of land. Their palatial grounds shone like giant beacons in the night. The lights illuminated structures of a grander scale than even Vim itself. The inhabitants of the hidden city, however, would have likely scoffed at the gross indulgence and complete lack of function of their design. The vast green spaces that existed between the homesteads and the main road were dark. Gardens, mazes and recreational areas were dotted by scattered lights. Small pinpoints, minor glowing orbs, highlighted the roving guards who chose to accentuate their paths across the vast swaths of land.