The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4)

by C. J. Aaron

  In truth, there was a concrete sensation that beckoned him to stay. He attributed the feeling to the woods around him. His presence would not be missed for a few moments. Ladders would be needed to scale the wall, though at the moment, collecting food took precedence. Le’Dral and his officers could handle the logistics in the meantime.

  His focus was broken, distracted by an overwhelming feeling that pulsed from the tree itself. It was as if the bark tingled with energy, a force that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall. Andr rubbed a hand gingerly over the back of his neck as he turned to look over his right shoulder.

  He gasped as a figure appeared behind him. Instinctively, he reached for his sword. His muscles seized, locking themselves in place before more than a finger’s width of his blade cleared the sheath. A wave of calm washed over him. The limbs of the forest surrounding him rustled as they flexed, spreading the soothing emotion.

  “Da’agryn,” Andr gasped as his eyes adjusted to the wraithlike figure behind him. “Have you recovered?”

  The prophet’s body was opaque, far more than when he’d called forth the ghosts from the Erlyn’s midst. Its edges glowed with a soft green light, while the body offered few definitive details save his head.

  “Silence. You will listen.” Da’agryn’s voice was thin and airy. It whispered to him as nothing more than a breeze blowing through the trees around him. The outline of his nearly transparent mouth remained locked shut as the words rang in Andr’s ears.

  “Time is short, and the importance cannot be understated.” The prophet’s words were soft yet clear. “I fear the night may have no end. The balance has shifted too far. It will seek to snuff out the light that follows him wherever he travels.”

  Da’agryn’s body moved past Andr, floating further along the flattened branch. His feet had vanished, seemingly a part of the tree itself.

  “The unawakened, the ones they call tributes, have cleared the poison that held their true powers in check. With every drop removed from their bodies, they burn brighter. They attract attention, yet they are not ready. It is not man that you need to fear anymore.”

  His body stopped at the end of the branch. Da’agryn’s image faded a little more with every passing moment.

  “It’s a view that never gets old.” The voice was barely audible. Andr strained to hear.

  Da’agryn turned to face him. Though his image faltered, his pointed stare could be felt. “I see devastation beyond words. Death beyond measure yet hope still lingers. Do not give in to despair. From defiance comes salvation. You will be rewarded for your vigil.”

  The phrenic disappeared with a rustle of leaves.

  “Salvation?” Andr whispered to himself, squinting his eyes as he peered out into the moonlit landscape.

  “Nothing comes from there but death,” he muttered to himself.

  Though a wide swath of green still extended miles to the west, the vast expanse of land beyond was an arid, monochromatic waste. Few creatures moved without fear. The withering sensation permeated everything there. He knew all too well that the disorienting and harsh landscape offered little sustenance. Its true denizens offered little hope for survival.

  The soft mutter of conversation rang from the guard station to the north. A sliver of yellow light splashed out, lighting the section of walkway that stretched along the top of the palisade. A pair of guards, bows slung over their shoulders, walked casually from their post. The lead carried a torch, angling the flame out over the woods to their side. Their vision was trained to the east. Into the Erlyn.

  The patrol, though their eyes swept the trees for movement, was lazy. The noise of their conversation was far too loud. Between their volume, their torch, and the light that poured from the open doorway behind them, they illuminated their position for all to see.

  Andr shook his head as he slid carefully back against the trunk of the tree. His disgust for the lack of discipline among the guards had been ingrained long before his feigned allegiance to their cause. In his eyes, they were lazy, poorly trained, and generally a worthless bunch. Many succeeded through sheer bloodlust and brutality.

  A brilliant flash of light tracked across the sky to the west. The voluminous clouds were spreading far to the south, enveloping the stars overhead. A low whistle followed the dramatic show of light in the sky. The noise, though faint, continued long after the light had disappeared. Andr felt his body tense as the sound continued.

  The pair of guards stopped their patrol, turning their attention to the west. The long, droning note of the call spiked suddenly, ending with a high-pitched trill.

  Andr’s heart raced at the sound. Foreign and unexpected as it was, he knew that call.

  A high-pitched hum followed.

  Arrows.

  With flawless timing, the pointed tips punched through the backs of the patrolling guards. The torchbearer crumpled to the ground. The flame sputtered, sending out a shower of sparks, yet remained lit. The second wavered for a moment before toppling over the exterior edge of the palisade. A sickening crunch signaled that his body had found the ground below.

  Andr reached for his sword, rapidly judging the distance from the edge of the branch to the wall beyond.

  A gap of nearly five meters separated him from the walkway. With little runway, the leap would be perilous at best. The fall would be disastrous.

  A blinding streak of light lit the night. The jagged bolt emanated from the west, streaking upward from the ground. The jagged lance of energy slammed into the guard tower. The orange glow that issued from the slender windows flashed white for an instant. The middle of the tower flexed outward as the stone structure swelled. A deep rumble sounded as the concussive blast ripped the tower apart. There was a muffled scream from one of the unlucky inhabitants as the heavy stone debris sprayed in all directions. Andr shuffled back to the trunk of the tree as the fragments rained down into the forest. Nothing but smoke and rubble remained where the tower once stood.

  Andr judged the distance once again, his body itching to attempt the foolhardy leap. If only the branch were angled more toward the palisade, he could make it with relative ease.

  He stopped in his tracks as the thought spurred a tangible idea.

  Andr turned from the palisade, placing his head against the rough bark of the tree. He squeezed his eyes shut as he concentrated on the forest. Through his excitement, he struggled to focus his mind. The images he forced into existence were fragmented at best.

  A moment was all he could afford to stand. With effort, he wrenched his hand from the tree, falling backward onto the wide platform of the branch. His hand caught ahold of a slender vertical branch preventing him from toppling to the ground below. He gasped for breath as the effort expended left him winded and dizzy.

  He didn’t have long to wait, to ponder if his effort had been in vain.

  The leaves of the branch rustled around him as if a great wind had stirred their silence. Andr steadied his body, rolling onto his knees for balance as the limb shifted. The great tree groaned, issuing sharp snapping sounds as pieces of bark snapped with the motion. When the movement came to a rest, the branch had shifted its position, now running perpendicular to the wall. A shortened gap of only a meter remained.

  Without testing his weight on the extremities of the limb, Andr rushed forward. The branch sagged as he neared the end. With a clumsy leap, he propelled himself across the gap between the wood and the stone. Andr toppled forward as he landed on the cold, hard walkway, rolling to a stop along the railing of the wall. His hands were shaking with excitement as he cupped them to his lips, letting out a whistle.

  A period of intolerable silence followed.

  At last, his anxious wait was rewarded by a high-pitched note in response.

  Andr retrieved the torch from where it had fallen, moving eagerly to the outer wall. He leaned forward, holding the flame out over the edge, peering into the darkness below.

  The weak light traveled only a matter of a few meters. Fa
r too short to light the ground far below. The shine of the moon and stars painted a vague and stark scene.

  Shadowed figures moved from the tree line. There was a single white spark, and a torch flashed to life, revealing its bearer.

  A commanding, gravelly voice, deep and low, broke the silence. He was cloaked with the hood still raised. His left arm was tattooed from shoulder to wrist. Blooming up from behind his shoulder was the handle of a massive weapon.

  “That is not the face I expected to see,” the man grumbled from under his hood.

  As he stepped forward, the flames of other torches sparked alight. The foliage on the western side of the palisade was far less dense than the heart of the Erlyn, which remained to the east. Though the gaps in the leaves gave no indication of details, it was evident that there was motion from underneath.

  Shadowed figures stepped from the trees by the dozens. Closest to the speaker, the four were cloaked like the first. The cloaked archers lowered their weapons.

  The speaker removed his hood, revealing the smiling face beneath.

  “It’s good to see you again, my friend,” the phrenic boomed.

  Andr felt the heat of excitement course through him. His smile grew uncontrollably.

  “Paasek.” He stumbled to form the overwhelming words as the emotion choked his voice. “How?”

  The phrenic laughed. His gravelly voice rumbled like thunder.

  “There will be time for that soon enough.” He laughed. “Is the wall clear?”

  Andr blinked his eyes as he worked to shake himself from his amazed stare. He surveyed the rubble of the guard tower to the north. Nothing moved. No sound emanated from the pile. Any guards who inhabited the tower were now entombed under the wreckage. To the south, several small pinpoints of light danced along the top of the palisade.

  Guards from the next towers hastened to investigate.

  “More come from the south,” Andr called down. “You have a few minutes at best.”

  Paasek nodded as he turned to his companion, quickly conferring with the group. The shadowed forms at his side stepped back, their figures swallowed again by the shadows of the woods. Paasek and a second cloaked phrenic strode forward.

  The phrenic councilor paused a meter from the edge of the wall. He reached down, collecting a pebble from the ground before him. With care, he polished the stone between his fingers, holding it up before his eyes, studying the details, though the dark of the waning night was still deep.

  He tossed the pebble over his shoulder, stepping forward to the base of the wall. He placed his hand against the palisade, bowing his head in concentration.

  From Andr’s view meters above, the intricate details were lost in the darkness of the night. The light from his torch failed to penetrate the darkness deep enough to illuminate more than the crude features below. The glint of light reflecting from the phrenic’s arms fractured as the composition of his skin seemingly changed. The smooth features hardened into jagged, crystalline ridges.

  Andr felt the palisade below his feet quake. He steadied himself against the stone railing as the wall around him shook. A rough sound of stone grating against stone accompanied the tremor. As quickly as it had started, the rumbling of the wall stilled.

  He peered over the railing, searching for the phrenic in the darkness. The second figure aided Paasek to his feet. The phrenic councilor stumbled as he attempted to hold himself upright. Andr stifled a gasp at the sight to the left of the phrenics.

  A thin protrusion, a little less than a meter wide, extended from the wall. At seemingly planned intervals, it rose steadily higher, forming a crude staircase, which stopped a meter from the peak of the palisade. Silently, the cloaked figures began ascending the stairs. Andr reached his hand out a moment later. His grasp was rewarded by the strong grip of a calloused hand.

  An instant later, the phrenic vaulted over the low railing of the wall. The hooded figure froze for a moment, its head scanning from side to side. Having learned the lost history of Damaris, Andr understood the reverence of The Stocks to the forgotten order. He remained silent as the warrior viewed for the first time the prison from which his ancestors had escaped.

  The phrenic slowly removed the hood that shadowed its face. The youthful exuberance written across the young man’s features was infectious. Andr couldn’t help but smile as he recognized the face of the phrenic before him.

  “Paelec,” Andr exclaimed as he pulled the phrenic into a brief, yet heartfelt embrace. “It’s good to see you again.”

  The phrenic nodded, greeting Andr with a clap on the shoulder and a smile before turning to assist the next body up the narrow staircase. Two phrenics were the next to mount the palisade. The first nodded subtly as it passed, bow at the ready with an arrow nocked. The second clapped him gently on the shoulder with its left hand, sure to keep its tattooed right arm far away from his body. Crackling barks of sharp white lightning rippled along the marked appendage held safely behind its back.

  They moved several paces to the south, kneeling in the shadows of the palisade’s walls, awaiting the approaching troops. The flickering lights of the torches grew closer. The silhouetted forms of the soldiers who charged in their direction resolved into view.

  Paasek was the next to mount the palisade, though his body required assistance as he was hoisted over the stone railing. Andr greeted the phrenic with a brief embrace as he topped the great wall. The sturdy man was gasping for breath. His chest heaved as he struggled for air. Andr felt for the usually stalwart phrenic. Having experienced the near debilitating fatigue that resulted from utilizing his newfound powers firsthand, he understood the disturbing ramifications. The phrenic was a giant when compared to most men. He doubled over at the waist, his hands on his knees as he gasped for air.

  “How are you here?” Andr gasped in amazement. His mind was rampant with questions. “I thought your skills were in the physical sect alone?”

  The twang of bowstrings snapped a hasty response. The flickering pinpoints of light from the approaching guards’ lanterns faltered. One sparked wildly as it bounced off the stone walkway. The other vanished over the western side of the wall.

  “As you can imagine, your silent departure from Vim spurred much debate among the citizens and councilors,” Paasek intoned. “Within days, the Horde, which had massed along the edge of the woods since Ryl’s appearance, departed.”

  From the crude stairwell, another phrenic hopped stealthily over the wall. The hooded warrior nodded at Andr before turning to assist another over the wall. A second phrenic landed silently on the narrow stone walkway.

  “I’ve lived a long time, my friend, yet the wonder of the alexen never ceases to amaze,” Paasek added between breaths. “To an extent, they have a will of their own. All have experienced the agitation since Ryl’s departure. The alexen has been disturbed. Frantic at times. Elemental work is a gift new to me.”

  Andr was startled by the admission. By human standards, the phrenic standing before him was ancient. He’d been raised with the powers of strength and a fortitude with the massive blade of his choosing. The addition of a second specialty was astounding. He felt for Paasek as the phrenic labored with the use of the new skill.

  From over the wall sounded hushed commands. Andr witnessed the forest come to life with activity as shadowed bodies streamed from the forest. He stared with amazement as one after the other they ascended the stairs.

  “How many?” Andr gasped.

  Paasek grinned as he replied. “Five phrenics and one thousand of the Vigil have come,” Paasek announced.

  Andr failed to hide the astonishment on his face. Also, the worry that quickly overtook the reaction.

  The phrenics at the wall helped the first of the Vigil over the stone railing. The soldier was short and stocky, yet powerfully muscled.

  “So many … what of Vim?” Andr inquired.

  “Vim will be well cared for,” came the commanding tone from the newcomer atop the wall. She strode quickly to j
oin them, inclining her head to Andr. The long vertical scar that spanned her face, the seemingly permanently impassive scowl—he recognized her instantly.

  “Councilor Lenu,” Andr gasped.

  The councilor smiled, her gaze darting to Paasek. A knowing look passed between them. Though her face flashed an uncommon grin, Andr could see that it lacked any real substance. It was a hollow look, more for his effect. It was a pained response. Though he was sure nothing would be said of it, he could see the weight she carried in her frame.

  “Councilors no more,” she acknowledged. “As it was, our cycle was nearly at a close.”

  “We abdicated our seats,” Paasek interjected. “Those who joined us, the phrenics and the Vigil, did so willingly, yet not without careful consideration. We came with the understanding that many may never again step foot within the safety of Vim. Nonetheless, the city will be safe. The city will still thrive. There are enough to tend the fields. Enough Vigil to defend the walls. Enough phrenics to sustain the population.”

  Flashes of lightning in the distance lit the terrain with increasing intensity.

  “What of the Horde?” Andr asked, curious about their disappearance from Vim.

  “Their movements were peculiar. They fueled, in part, our decision to come.” Paasek sighed. “In the past, the demons moved without any subtlety or discretion. For ages, they skulked in the shadows. We’d see fleeting glimpses occasionally, a careless scout. Today they move without fear of discovery and in numbers not witnessed in a millennium. They forsake all else as if they’re drawn to a singular focus.”

  Lenu turned her gaze back to the southwest. The lightning flashes illuminated the terrain for a moment. Outside the remnants of the Erlyn Woods that ran alongside the base of the mountains, the rumpled hills were only dotted by occasional copses of trees. The fertile land had been considered lost, left to the wild grasses and shrubs.

  “They move for Damaris,” Paasek added. “As they were drawn to his presense in Vim, so too do they seek him out now. They come for Ryl. Look closely.”

  The mercenary strained his eyes into the dark, studying every feature he could distinguish. A massive bolt of lightning crossed the clouded sky, jumping through the billowing clouds parallel to the ground before vanishing as quickly as it had come.