The Weight of Darkness (Catalyst Book 5)

by C. J. Aaron

  The waypoint was situated just to the west of the main road and river that bisected The Stocks. Running the length of the penned-in enclosure, a span of under eight miles separated that point from the palisade looming over the western horizon. Ryl guessed they’d covered half the distance when he slowed again. No signs of others appeared through his phrenic mindsight. The scent of smoke, though faint, was undeniable. His long, loping strides narrowed. He crouched down as he crept up the rise of the hill in their path. The darkened shadow on the horizon told of a substantial growth of trees not far in the distance.

  Ryl paused at the peak, keeping his body low to the ground. He disguised his silhouette among the bushes that grew uninhibited along the top of the ridge. A hundred meters to the west, the stand of trees stretched out, forming a formidable glade. The terrain here was wild; the fields of crops had yet to spread this far. Though the history of The Stocks stretched for over one thousand cycles, the population was never large enough to justify cultivating all the land at their disposal. The human resources would have been spread too thin. The output of the crops they maintained provided a sufficient bounty to satiate the needs of those who demanded the resources.

  The spoor they had followed for miles terminated at the edge of the trees. The beaten trail through the fields would likely be washed away by the rain that threatened to follow. A low, moaning whistle of the wind shifted the waving grasses that surrounded them. The swirling breeze continued to carry with it hints of smoke. Momentary flickers of light sparkled from inside the trees. A single muffled note of laughter sounded over the wind; a rowdy cheer followed in its wake.

  “They disguise a fire within the trees,” Paasek noted.

  “Aye. They celebrate lives lost,” Ryl growled.

  He felt the hint of darkness call from within as his anger rose. The alexen swelled in his veins, bringing with it the scorching heat. For a moment, he considered giving in to the darkness. Those who had butchered the guards, the civilians, deserved no mercy.

  Ryl paused as a heavy pressure landed on his shoulder. The weight, much like stone, weighed his body down. For an instant he entertained the urge to fight. The darkness demanded bloodshed, not justice for the affront. His left hand slipped behind his back, eagerly seeking the feel of the dormant weapon.

  A second hand, its grip tighter than the first, closed on his right arm. The stony fingers enveloped the mark Kaep had left upon his skin. The tattoo of the demure hand wrapped in vines coursed with energy. Ryl felt an electricity rush through his veins, the blinding light burning off the black whispers from within.

  Paasek was at his side, his eyes wide with concern. “Ryl, stay with me,” he whispered. His voice was soft, yet it hammered him with the force of a scream. A wave of calm washed over him; his body rocked back on his heels at the unexpected force. The energy that crackled in his veins was invigorating. It rippled with a voice, one that urged restraint and calm. The will, the insatiable desire to fight blanched from his body. His hand balled into a fist, withdrawing from its quest for the weapon hidden behind his back. He blinked his eyes, appraising the phrenic before him.

  “I’m here, Paasek,” he muttered. “There’s a battle brewing inside me. The alexen holds the fury at bay, yet it is overpowering. Emotions have gotten the better of me. I don’t understand it.”

  Even through the dark of the night, through the impenetrable shadow of his hood, Ryl could feel Paasek’s eyes studying him.

  “You have been the anomaly that we have awaited for generations,” Paasek noted. “The prophecy has ever been vague. The alexen is sentient. It hides from you until the moment your mind, your body truly understands its will. Fear not that there is a plan. You’ve preserved the phrenic from harm time and time again. To what extent the darkness invades your body, I know not. Do not let emotions or the shadows control you.”

  Ryl lowered his head for a moment. He could feel the conflicting feeling. The heat of the alexen battling the cold whispers of darkness. Yet over the struggle, he could feel the lingering impact of Kaep’s presence. Her voice begged for calm. It was a call he could not deny, a force that compelled him to acquiesce.

  “The taint of the nexela is relentless,” he added. “It threatens to overtake the alexen. I fear for all if that happens. Yet, even over its ferocity, it is Kaep’s voice I hear ring clearly.”

  Paasek nodded his head, looking to the west. Far away, hidden amongst the Haven Mountains, was Vim. Their home. The hidden city where he’d watched Kaep blossom into the legendary warrior of the phrenic order. The sting of her loss would remain with him throughout his days.

  “Kaep was a scholar as much as she was a warrior,” Paasek said, his voice dripping with reverence. “She understood that her destiny, while she had the will to choose her path, was guided by the voices from within. She believed in the alexen, in their knowledge. She believed in the phrenics, their history and their power. She believed in you, Ryl.”

  Around them, fat droplets of rain crashed to the earth.

  “Lean on her wisdom, for it will ever be a part of you,” Paasek intoned.

  Ryl was at a loss for words. The attempt at sounds failed in his throat. He placed his right hand on the shoulder of Paasek, giving it an understanding squeeze.

  “Welcome back, my friend,” Paasek intoned.

  A muffled cheer rose from the clandestine meeting inside the depths of the forest. Ryl turned his eyes from the phrenic back to the grove in the distance. The track of the group they had followed ended as it rounded the edge of the tree line slightly north of their position. Aside from the sporadic glimmer of light, there was no noticeable motion among the trees.

  “I see no signs of sentries,” Paasek whispered.

  “Aye. They have little to fear tucked away in this corner of The Stocks. I lived here for nearly half my life and never once had the cause, freedom, nor desire to explore here,” Ryl agreed. “Careless though, don’t you think? I say it’s time we pay them a visit.”

  Paasek grunted at his side. The note of his sword clearing his sheath served as the phrenic’s reply.

  The pair stalked down the shallow slope, their movements further disguised by the darkened mass of clouds now stretching overhead. Heavy drops fell with ever increasing frequency and intensity as the storm began to unleash its load. The patter of droplets on the earth and the rushing howl of winds hid their approach.

  Ryl drew the Leaves from behind his back as they reached the tree line. Smaller growth stretched out for a few meters, though the older, larger trees dwarfed the saplings. They paused as they entered the shelter beneath the branches. Here, the patter of raindrops on the leaves was a constant rumble, though only in a few locations did the water pour down in a waterfall as it was funneled by the canopy above.

  Trapped by the leaves overhead, the acrid scent of smoke was potent. Deeper into the grove there was a definite glow from the fire or fires burning within. The mixed sounds of voices were far louder here, interspersed with the agitated whinnying of horses.

  Ryl’s eyes adjusted rapidly to the low light under the trees. Though these were not within the Erlyn’s domain, he felt at ease underneath limbs. The details of their surroundings were easily distinguished. Within moments it was clear that no sentries moved throughout the trees. The hunters, though vicious, were lax in their patrols.

  “I see no signs of movement,” he whispered.

  He studied the woods before him. By the standards of The Stocks, the grove they had entered was large, though the Erlyn dwarfed it hundreds of times over. Ryl would have been surprised if the entire width was more than a few hundred meters. The undergrowth was thin. It was curious that the light from the fire was so well disguised.

  Within a few paces, the cause became clear. Only a few meters inside the tree line, a wall of branches blocked their approach. Ryl studied the construction for a moment, gawking at the simplicity of the design. A horizontal, wide-spaced frame of sticks and timber was secured to the trees, the gaps filled
with leafy branches and loosely woven sheets of grasses. The frame extended upward, forming a sloping covered roof, protecting the inhabitants from the elements and further dampening any light that they might produce. Through the gaps in the leaves and grasses, Ryl noted the motion of several bodies from within.

  He signaled for Paasek to hold as he crept around the exterior of the structure. Ryl moved with caution, though the sound emanating from within easily eclipsed the quiet padding of his feet. It took little time for Ryl to complete nearly three-quarters of the circuit around the hidden shelter. The structure was compact, yet the size belied the undertaking that had been organized to create it.

  Judging from the time they’d spent tracking the hunters, he guessed that they had covered a little more than half the distance to the western palisade. The western edge of this glade and the wall would still be separated by more than three miles of rolling hills. The work had likely been completed under the cover of darkness. The rope lashing that secured the timbers to the trees was preferable to the noise of hammer and nail, which could likely be heard by the watchful ears of the guards atop the wall.

  Secrecy was aided not only by darkness but the rapidly altering evolution of the kingdom. Eyes had been turned outward from sedate tributes who labored in their pen of stone. The beasts who prowled the wastes of the Outlands posed a far greater threat.

  At the opposite side of the structure, Ryl paused as he noted the first sign of motion from within the trees. He slunk backward, disappearing behind the trunk of a tree as he watched in silence.

  Ahead a clearing had been opened in the grove. Nearly five meters in width and length, it was barely large enough to house the group of horses that had been corralled into it. The agitated mounts, lashed to a crude hitching post along one side, snorted at the unfamiliar bodies who now moved among them. Two men appeared in the clearing; the light from the concealed room clearly illuminated their features.

  Ryl felt the alexen in his veins seethe with fire. His hands squeezed into involuntary fists as the men spoke. One was dressed in the unassuming, plain clothing that Ryl expected from the hunters. The other wore the telltale uniform of the Cadsae Proper guard.

  “I need to be getting back before I’m missed,” the guard muttered. His voice dripped with annoyance. “You get to have all the fun while I walk the walls in the rain.”

  “Ah, quit whining, Kroy,” the second chided as the disguised man safely skirted beyond the mounts. His voice was deep, hoarse and gravelly. “A comfortable, dry bed is in your future. Fear not, there will be plenty more blood to be spilled before this is over.”

  The hunter tossed a small sack to the departing guard. The pouch jingled, ringing with an unmistakable clink of coins.

  “Don’t forget to pay the others,” he added. “Remember, it was their silence that afforded you the opportunity tonight.”

  With a nod and a grin, the first man disappeared into the darkness of the pathway through the woods. The hunter mumbled to himself as he spun back toward the enclosure. As he turned, his gaze swept through the trees, stopping abruptly as it neared Ryl’s position. His body tensed, his arms flexed as if they were primed to draw the sword that rested on his hip. The hunter squinted his eyes, peering into the darkness. What he’d seen, Ryl was unsure.

  With a steadying breath, Ryl focused on the man. He forced a disarming wave of apathy over the alerted hunter. Though his eyes widened for a moment, the alert preparedness drained from his body. He shook his head as he shrugged his shoulders. A moment later he disappeared into the light of their shelter.

  Ryl slipped back into the darkness, rounding to where he’d left Paasek. As he moved stealthily among the trees, he focused on the activity within. The conversations were mundane. Occasional bouts of laughter erupted from the jovial men inside. Their muted celebration of the murders they had just perpetrated was revolting. Ryl felt the contents of his stomach churn.

  From his best guess, there were no more than half a dozen inside. Through the slits in their wall of foliage and grass, he watched as the hunter from the clearing moved the length of the interior room, seating himself close to the edge of the opposite wall. The pack was not something to be shrugged off or taken lightly. Ryl knew that they were all skilled men of arms. Cornered in tight confines, they’d fight with a ruthless, deadly ferocity not to be overlooked.

  That is, to a normal foe.

  Today, they faced judgment for the murders they had perpetrated.

  Ryl sent a calming wave over the phrenic, who remained hidden among the shadows. The act was a formality. His phrenic companion was far too wise not to note his silent approach.

  “I count at least six,” Paasek whispered as Ryl neared. “They cheer the deaths as if it were a trivial matter.”

  “Aye. There is no morality to be found among the hunters,” Ryl growled. “They are the kingdom’s henchmen. They run down the families of the wayward tributes. There is no mercy among their ranks.”

  Paasek shifted, bringing his mighty sword forward, resting it across his lap. “What’s your plan?” he inquired.

  “One departed only a few moments ago,” Ryl added. “He wears the uniform of the Cadsae Proper guard, heading back to patrol the wall. He goes to pay those who allowed him to partake in tonight’s murders.”

  Paasek angled his head lower; a sliver of light from the fire burning inside the chamber sliced across his face. The muscles of his face tightened; his angular, stony features seemed to crystalize. A chilling, deadly determination burned in his eyes.

  Ryl looked up into the blackness of the trees’ canopy overhead.

  “The rain will muffle the sound,” he hissed. “Let’s make this quick.”

  Chapter 8

  Ryl moved slowly, weaving his way carefully through the trees and underbrush. His track led him in the opposite direction of his original survey, rounding the rear of where the horses had been tied. He let a wave of calm flow over the startled beasts, stifling their complaints before they raised the alarm. At the edge of the clearing, he paused, his phrenic mindsight tracking the motion of Paasek as he moved into position.

  From where he paused, Ryl was able to gain his first vision inside the interior of the shelter, though it was limited to only a narrow view of a single side. A row of three cots was stretched out along the crude walls, lifted up from the cold ground by short stumps. A table was positioned near the center of the opening; a fire crackled quietly closer to the entrance. Three hunters, engaged in a game of cards, afforded little interest or concern to the happenings outside their secluded shelter. Their security was left to a small spiked barrier extending a few meters from the opening.

  Ryl shook his head at the wholly inadequate design. Little attention had been given to their defenses. They’d encountered no sentries. No traps were hidden among the trees to stagger any potential assault. He knew the hunters to be a confident bunch, relying on their strength, ruthlessness and the weight of the king’s note.

  Ryl had little concern for any of these.

  None would help them now.

  The moving shape of Paasek halted. The phrenic was in position.

  The alexen in his veins churned with anticipation. The overexcited fury rose, drawing out the dark whispers that swelled from within.

  Ryl rose to his full height, stalking out from behind the concealment of the tree. It only took a matter of steps to round the pitiful, barbed line of defenses. He froze when he reached the entryway to the chamber. His right arm hung down at his side, the wind swirling around his tattoos, spiraling around his body. His phrenic cloak rippled out to his side.

  Seven hunters occupied their cramped shelter. A pair lounged on their cots along the previously hidden side of the wall; the others sat around a table, joking amongst them as they carried on with their game. Facing the doorway, it was the hunter who had paid the guard who noted him first. Ryl watched as his eyes swelled. Where only moments earlier, the entrance had stood clear, now the hooded figure materialized
from the darkness without.

  The hunter jumped to his feet as his blade ripped from his sheath. Cards spilled across the ground as the table was upended. Several of the others tipped backward in their chairs, a result of the unexpected response.

  “Who are you …” The tone of his deep voice was harsh, dripping with hatred. His words ended with a snapping of branches.

  His face had only an instant to contort with surprise and fear as his body pitched backward, shattering the timber wall at his back. His voice terminated in a wet gurgle.

  The remaining hunters in the chamber scrambled to free their weapons. Those who’d fallen stumbled to regain their footing. Ryl allowed them no time to reorganize.

  Dipping into the speed that flowed through his veins, he spun, latching onto the narrow wall of pikes that guarded the doorway. Dragging the defenses with him, he charged into the enclosure, heaving the spiked frame toward the pair struggling to rise from their cots. As the object left his hands, he released the wind that had swelled around his arm.

  The spikes knifed through the air, catching the pair in the chest. The inadequate defenses proved their undoing as the sharpened pikes punched through the thin leather armor beneath their tunics. The wood and wind carried their lifeless bodies backward, tearing down a section of the makeshift wall with them.

  The movements of the hunters became frantic. The upended soldiers struggled to their feet, grasping to assess the threats at both sides of their hidden enclosure. Their eyes were wide, darting from side to side, working to identify the greater of the threats.

  No matter which danger they chose to address, they were doomed.

  The pair closest to where the unseen hands of Paasek had wrenched his companion through the wall turned to address that abnormality. As they pivoted from the appearance of Ryl, the other phrenic entered the fray. His massive, stony frame exploded through the hole where he’d pulled the initial hunter. The flimsy wooden wall had served its purpose of disguising their actions; however, it provided little protection from assault.