The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4)

by C. J. Aaron

  “Will a few hours matter?” he groaned.

  Ryl shrugged his shoulders in response.

  “We’ll see,” was all he could muster for a reply.

  Fay’s hesitance waned as his conviction rekindled anew. The young lord, spurred to action, moved eagerly among his troops, issuing the orders to clear the city of all those who couldn’t or refused to bear arms. They were given the chance to stand and defend themselves, to defend their loved ones who remained by their side or flee further into The Stocks. Some were eager to stay.

  Most fled willingly.

  Ryl remained watch atop the palisade. The retreating darkness revealed more details of the demons who stood watch at the edge of the courtyard. Jagged claws were now distinguishable from the shadowed mass that waited with a disturbing patience. Lord Eligar’s troops, to their credit, remained firm in their watch.

  “Captain,” Ryl beckoned, for he knew the man had not strayed far once Fay had taken his leave. The veteran was at his side in moments.

  “Have your men rotate rest now,” he ordered. The captain immediately furrowed his brows in confusion. “Do not let them wander from their posts. I expect the Horde to hold firm. I fear we have a long standoff before us.”

  The captain, though hesitant, followed orders. Along the line, soldiers slumped down where they stood, finding the first piece of open wall to rest their backs.

  Ryl followed suit. He cast a cautious glance at the Horde before crossing the narrow walkway, leaning his back against the stone railing. He slid down the cold, rough stone wall, pulling his knees up toward his chest. He focused, scanning the area again.

  The approach of the Horde remained stagnant. They waited. Their cue would likely be noticeable.

  Ryl knew his mindsight would alert him. His body would sound the alarm far before Lord Eligar’s sentries would need the assistance. The gates would hold.

  For the first time, he realized how tired he truly was. It had been just shy of two days, and he’d slept but a few moments. Even with the worry of momentary attack, he was asleep the moment he closed his eyes.

  A gentle tap on his shoulder stirred Ryl from his slumber. Fay kneeled in front of him. Splotches of color had begun returning to his face. His cheeks were rosy, while the rest of his complexion remained alarmingly pale.

  “You’ll want to see this,” he muttered, stifling a large yawn. “At least they granted us a moment of peace.”

  Ryl was on his feet in an instant, his mindsight firing unbeckoned. The black mass remained at a standstill. The solitary golden glow far behind him signaled that Aelin likely still slumbered. He turned quickly, fast enough to assist Fay back to his feet.

  The deep violet of the night sky had been replaced by the light pink of the early morning. He shot a quick glance to the east. The entire sun had cleared the horizon if only by moments. The dilapidated village of Cadsae was again eerily deserted. The sun, low in the sky, cast long, heavy shadows from the east, blanketing much of the usable area in darkness. It was as if night in the village refused to give way to the coming dawn. Lord Eligar’s troops were not alone. Judging by the lingering cloud of dust to the north, many had chosen to flee as instructed. The stragglers milled around the earthen square. Ryl turned his vision to the south. Toward Cadsae Proper. The mass of Horde that greeted him was as impressive as it was terrifying.

  The effect of waiting for daylight was profound. The panic took on various forms atop and behind the palisade.

  The absence of visual cues would have likely given way to the torment of imagination. Few had seen the Horde close enough to truly grasp the grotesque viciousness of their beings. What diabolical creatures had their minds conjured?

  None could have envisioned the horrors that now stood before them.

  The sea of darkened shapes had blotted out the lighter grey hues of the city’s avenues at night. The demons now resolved with terrifying clarity. Uncoordinated row upon row of the lanky harriers pressed in close quarters. Early morning sunlight sparkled off the fetid moisture that coated the bared, razor-sharp teeth. Their daggerlike claws twitched in anticipation. The entirety of the mass seemed to seethe with excitement over the coming massacre. Their numbers seemed to swell from behind, though their approach stopped curiously at the opposite edge of the square.

  Ryl stepped forward until his knees touched the stone wall before him. The sun rose from the east, illuminating a city half smoldering, half drenched in blood. Ryl looked down upon the streets of Cadsae Proper with complete and utter revulsion. The captain remained where he’d last seen him. He wondered if the man had moved through the fleeting hours of the night.

  “They remained quiet throughout the night.” The captain’s voice was hushed, haunted. “After the last of the screams from the city stopped, they fell silent.”

  He turned to the captain as the man spoke, noting the startling change in his demeanor since the evening. Looking beyond the man, his soldiers fared no better. Many shook visibly. The fear written across their features was telling.

  Ryl’s vision darted to the motion to the southeast. The Kingsway leading into the city was teeming with activity. A dense formation of cavalry led the way, guiding tens of thousands toward the city. From the distance, the thunder of their boots on the ground was still but a low rumble.

  The king’s army had entered the fold.

  To the west, the last traces of the storm dotted the sky, thinning as it spread far to the south. The ground below seemed to have absorbed the darkness from the previous night. As far as his eyes could see, the open avenues of the city, the terrain of the Estates and beyond, swarmed with a sea of blackened bodies. The sheer numbers were staggering.

  In the myths of his childhood he’d heard tales of the army so large it blanketed all that could be seen in a writhing layer of black. In the experiences of Caprien, he’d witness but a fraction of their size, though the numbers were daunting. Though he knew more of the truth, could feel it through the combined experiences of the alexen within his blood, the reality far exceeded his imagination.

  “The Horde, it’s as if they pay no attention to their approach,” Fay gasped.

  Ryl squinted his eyes as he glared into the distance. There at the center of the formation, the vanguard of the army, was the answer to Lord Eligar’s musing.

  A group of seven rode at the head. Black cloaks flapped in the sea breeze as they marched onward.

  “The Lei Guard commands the king’s forces,” Ryl growled.

  The whisper from within assaulted his senses as it forced itself upon his thoughts.

  It called for blood.

  For a massacre.

  With it came a subtle hint of fear that startled Ryl with its presence. A melancholy so potent it was nearly debilitating. It was desperate.

  Devastating.

  It was hopeless.

  There was more, something off to the sensation. None who stood atop that wall could look upon the sights before them, including Ryl, without fear. He was terrified. The odds were overwhelming. Yet, beneath the dark, desperate feelings was a hint of something unexpected.

  Longing.

  The emotion was so out of place, so sinister. Its appearance was an anomaly. It disguised itself among the dark emotions yet illuminated the true intent. Ryl cursed himself for a fool.

  Without a moment’s hesitation he scanned the surrounding area with his mindsight. He viewed the city through the lenses of both eyesight and his phrenic abilities. There, hidden among the first buildings on either side of the alley, was the cause. Disguised as the subtle fading of the dense blackness of the Horde, the charcoal wisps of shapes had gone unnoticed.

  Their attack had been so subtle, so gradual, he’d failed to note their assault. Lei Guard, under the cover of night and the overwhelming darkness of the Horde, had crept to the front. They waited, holding the Horde in check. Secreted away inside the relative security of the houses that bordered the edges of the courtyard, he couldn’t distinguish their numbers. The
ir gradually swelling attack was no longer a mystery.

  Ryl closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the alexen in his veins. He begged for their forgiveness for what he was about to do. For what he was unable to accomplish. He had set out to save them all. The tributes who’d languished in The Stocks for far too long were free. He’d failed the tributes who’d been corrupted into the Lei Guard. He knew he’d not be able to save them all.

  The alexen rushed through his veins, beginning with its familiar warmth. The calm that flowed in its wake was a balm to the dread of what was to become.

  The alexen understood what must be done.

  Ryl focused on the most potent feeling he could picture. It had brought him from the depths of darkness before. He’d call on it once again.

  Hope.

  He exhaled a slow steady breath as he let the emotion flow from his body. He pushed the wave out to his sides, blanketing the soldiers who stood at arms beside him. To his left, Cipri shuddered. The captain’s eyes, when their gaze met Ryl’s, though the fear remained, were burning with determination.

  “Averine’s left a surprise for them.” Ryl grinned. “It’s time.”

  He reached behind his back, retrieving the Leaves with both hands.

  The captain jumped as the blades erupted with searing green fire.

  Ryl held the blades low and out to his sides while a pair of archers on either side lit their special loads. The rag-covered projectiles, soaked in pitch, burst into flame as they came close to the blades. Their heads burned bright green as they withdrew them, carefully taking aim.

  “Let none cross where the wreckage of the stairs remains,” Ryl warned. “Save your arrows for any who try. Don’t shoot into the fray.”

  The captain nodded in assent.

  Ryl met Fay’s gaze. The bows of the archers on either side creaked as they drew their flaming cargo.

  Ryl inclined his head at his friend.

  “Fire,” he yelled.

  Chapter 46

  Ryl dipped into the speed a moment after the bowstrings released their flaming projectiles. The arrows traced a glowing green trail through the still of the morning. He darted to his right as they arched toward their marks.

  The gap that had opened in the low stone railing after the destruction of the stairs had been rebuilt. The repair, cobbled together with necessity and haste, was little more than a pile of heavy stone and rubble. Ryl stepped carefully along the thin railing as he approached. His enhanced agility made easy work of the precarious footing. As he reached the barrier, he leapt outward from the wall.

  The liberating sensation of weightlessness never ceased to amaze him. He reveled in the momentary rush before the sickening churn of his stomach once gravity again took hold. His cloak floated out behind him, rippling with the speed of his motion.

  Ryl landed squarely on the remnants of the stone stairs. The rapid demolition had been far from thorough, though in the little time afforded them was admirable. The gap was easily several meters wide, yet the more daunting aspect was the change in elevation. The drop, only a meter down, would render the distance nearly inaccessible for the average man. Though they might be able to reach the wall, grasping for a hold with their fingertips, they’d be cut down before they could hoist themselves upward.

  Ryl doubted that the Horde would have an easier time with the jump either. Though they were dramatically faster than the average man, the gap would likely slow them down long enough for arrows or blades to cut them down.

  Though rapid, they were far from immune.

  Would that it was an army of Vigil manning the wall behind him. The hearty soldiers had done well training against the enhanced speed of the phrenics. For their part, they understood the demons they fought against. Though few had survived their initial battle, they had crossed blades with the abominations of the Outland Hordes.

  Ten meters ahead, the remains of the stairwell turned at a right angle toward the courtyard. Ryl tracked the arrows streaking across the sky ahead of him. He descended a few more steps, his lengthy strides covering several stairs at once. Just before reaching the small landing where the stairs turned, he dropped over the side, falling into the protective cover behind the stairwell.

  The arrows found their marks only instants apart.

  Ryl instinctively hardened the woodskin across his body. He pressed the base of his palms against his ears as the barrels of blasting powder detonated. The ground shook. Fragments of stone rained down from the side of his temporary shelter. The shock waves rippled through his body, preceding the searing heat and deafening boom.

  Ryl dipped deeper into the speed within his veins, lunging out from his hiding spot. The constant note of a high-pitched song rang in his ears from the damage of the volume. He raced across the middle of the courtyard, maneuvering his body straight into the billowing cloud of flame and smoke. The charges set against the corners of the building, though their heat and flame stretched toward the palisade, had spared him from the bulk of the shrapnel. Deadly chunks of jagged rock strewn from the foundations of the buildings pummeled the Horde that clogged the avenue. The buildings above, having lost their footing, collapsed inward, crushing those that remained below. Hidden amongst the buildings that anchored either corner of the avenue, the Lei Guard stood little chance against the incinerating heat and avalanche of timber and stone.

  The wind swelled around his right arm as he raced toward the fireball.

  Ryl slashed his right arm forward, releasing the gout of wind that had swelled. The vicious arc exploded from his arm, cutting a line through the smoke and flame. Fragments of rubble, shards of timber and glass lanced forward, ignorant of any who stood in their path.

  The heat was intense. Ryl hardened the woodskin across the entirety of his frame as he passed through the middle of the blast. His eyes were useless inside the maelstrom. He relied on his phrenic mindsight to guide him.

  His stomach threatened to turn as he witnessed the dark grey signatures of the Lei Guard evaporate in the face of the explosion.

  They were once tributes. Family.

  He’d set them free from their life of eternal torment, yet his body ached at the revelation.

  The smoke curled into great eddies as his body streaked through the explosion. An opening had cleared in the dark stain that had choked his vision as the Horde were battered by the blast. As he cleared the smoke, the true devastation of Averine’s surprise became apparent.

  Deadly chunks of rock hammered the lanky demons standing in their path. Shards of wood impaled any in their way. Those close to the blast fared the worst. Their bodies were ripped to shreds. Severed appendages and unidentifiable chunks of flesh traveled through the air.

  The arc of wind from his arm had cleared the path before him. The debris, flame and heat lanced forward, clearing the way. Ryl slapped a stray wedge of stone that had survived his gust out of the air with the flat edge of his glowing blade. The throbbing in his left arm reached a thundering crescendo. Neither the woodskin nor the alexen focused on his arm prevented the agony that rushed through him. The pain was incessant, though thankfully, the dark whispers had subsided to nothing more than a hint of animosity, easily stifled.

  Ryl wasted no time with the dead or dying. The emotional assault from the Lei Guard who’d hidden themselves among the buildings ceased. He would mourn their losses later. The devastation from the blast had cleared a wedge of nearly thirty meters down the gently sloping avenue. The first buildings crumbled inward as the explosion ravaged their street-side supports. The damage to the adjacent houses was severe, though all remained standing for the moment.

  He fell upon the reeling Horde without mercy. A second slash from his right arm propelled a focused blade of green fire forward. The sickening scent of burning flesh greeted him as he leapt over the line of severed bodies. The pools of black blood spread out around the dead.

  Ryl was disturbingly aware that he waged a battle of dual fronts. He cut through the unprepared, sluggish Horde with
a lethal combination of speed, wind and blades. The burning, serrated edges of the Leave severed limbs from bodies, spraying clouds of viscous black blood across the street. The accumulated odor of the Horde was nauseating as it choked the air with the scents of rot and death. At the same time, a war was waged internally.

  A portion of the alexen focused on battling the discomfort that had been mounting in his left arm. He lacked confidence in the appendage. The fear that a jolt of pain would cause the weapon to slip from his hand was potent. Even so, he maneuvered the blade with reserved, yet lethal efficiency. It was a clear hindrance. Over a long-fought battle, one that could prove devastating. Even diminished, he was more than capable.

  Ryl had thought he’d grasped the understanding of the confusing sensation after the battle on the bridge before Serrate. The resurgence of the pain this time was puzzling. The feeling had swelled in the presence of the Lei Guard and the refined nexela, yet the power that he struggled to comprehend failed to materialize now when he needed it the most.

  At the present, he couldn’t be bothered by the explanation. He’d searched the innermost recesses of his mind. He’d questioned the knowledge of the phrenics before him, though no answers revealed themselves. The frustrating feeling of resignation was undeniable. He held on to hope as he’d placed his faith in the alexen, believing that when the time was right, the truth would be revealed.

  The Horde fell before him in numbers beyond counting. He darted from one side of the avenue to the other, falling upon the demons with a ferocity they could neither match nor counter. The initial shock of his actions faded rapidly. The Horde before him attempted to turn the tide using the tactic he’d anticipated. As they rebounded from the initial shock, they turned on him, pressing his attack with the weight of overwhelming numbers.

  Ryl felt the heat of battle overtaking him. He struggled to maintain his assault without compromising his position. The loss of the full confidence in his left arm grew into a concern that threatened his concentration. The sting of claws across his chest brought his mind back to reality. He felt the hot wash of blood as it ran down the front of his shirt.