The Weight of Darkness (Catalyst Book 5)

by C. J. Aaron

  There was little time for discussion after the arrival of the phrenics. Both newcomers had likely been versed by the others sent to replace them as to the original destination of the mission. They would have ample time at sea to fill them in on alterations to the scope of their expedition. Fay approached the pair, handing each of them an unbranded uniform that had come to define his clandestine force.

  “For a few moments, you’ll be members of my house guards,” the young lord added. “Though short, it is an honor.”

  “You’ve risked much in defense of the tributes. Your trust in a boy whom you knew nothing of has been unwavering.” Vox’s voice was sincere, lacking any hint of flattery. “For however long or symbolic it will be, it is our pleasure.”

  Fay paused. For a moment, the young lord of House Eligar froze, finding himself at a loss for words. He nodded in appreciation.

  A knock on the door preceded the entrance of Captain Cipri. The tall guard from House Eligar ducked slightly as he entered.

  “The last of the troops are ready, as is the tide,” he relayed. “It’s time.”

  Fay took a last look around at the companions in the room. His eyes lingered on Captain Le’Dral for a moment. Over the last several moons, the pair, previously unintroduced, had formed a bond of trust. A look of sadness welled in his eyes. Though they all moved a further step into the unknown, there was a definitive sadness in the separation. The lord stopped at the door, placing his hands upon Cipri’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, Captain. Keep them safe,” he whispered before turning his head toward the others. “See you on board.”

  The coordinated dance of their departure commenced with little formality. Le’Dral had ordered the changing of the guard who prevented access to the master’s house and clinic. He had worked diligently to keep the schedule fluid, ignoring the common structure of regimented order. Unexpected changes made for a greater degree of difficulty for any intent on causing harm to the rogue force behind the walls.

  Singly or in pairs, the group filed out of the room, melding into the guards who had grouped before the door. All were dressed in the unassuming green of House Eligar’s troops. The ruse was thinly veiled, though its application would be sufficient. Word of the arrival of the phrenics had undoubtedly reached the ears or eyes of any who were watching the captain from the shadows. The eyes of the kingdom would know they were in Cadsae, yet without definitive proof of their departure, it would take time to verify the uncertainty. By the time they realized the full truth, Ryl and his companions would likely have arrived at their destination.

  Rolan and Faya had remained out of the way, waiting patiently in the clinic as the discussions had stretched on in the back room of the master’s house. It was Faya who rushed to Ryl’s side as they made to leave. Her arms wrapped around his waist; tears ran from her sightless eyes.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” Ryl whispered as he comforted the youth. After a moment, she separated, returning to the waiting arms of her father.

  “Yes, you will,” was all she replied.

  In truth, he would miss the pair. Both Faya and Rolan had become like family. The father’s undying devotion to his child, though it stirred a deep-seated feeling of jealousy, was refreshing to witness. They would remain under the protection of Le’Dral long enough to rest before a mounted patrol would accompany them to the Erlyn.

  With a final farewell to Le’Dral, Ryl, with the company of the three unawakened, exited the master’s house. He inhaled a deep steadying breath and focused on the illusion at hand. The dreaded brands vanished, replaced by clean, unblemished skin. His application was intentionally less perfect than his original display during their meeting. He had only needed to hold the illusion for a few short moments then. A march of nearly half of a mile was in his immediate future; it would likely be a challenge to maintain.

  The cool breeze that circled around Cadsae was refreshing as he exited the cramped confines of the master’s house with the tributes following a step behind. The air carried a heavy, stale scent of charred wood. Though the fires that had ravaged Cadsae Proper had long been extinguished, tiny particles of ash, caught by the swirling winds, floated through the air, falling like gray flakes of snow. Ryl paused as he reached the top step, motioning for them to continue down the stairs. Andr waited nonchalantly at the foot of the steps.

  “Tash, Palon, stay in front of me,” Ryl whispered as they passed. “Follow Andr. No matter what happens, I’ll be only a step behind. Cray, walk with me. The illusion will be taxing; I’ll hold it as long as I can.”

  The trio nodded their head in understanding, striding down the stairs with a confident swagger that belied their obvious reticence. Ryl kept his head down as he followed a step behind, though his pride in his friends swelled at their steadfast determination. It wasn’t long since they had been helpless, hopeless, beaten down by the cruelty of the world they had been born into.

  Ryl was among the last of Lord Eligar’s troops to vacate the square. Andr led them into the center of the staggered formation as the soldiers began their retreat to the docks. Dressed in the green garb of Fay’s soldiers, they vanished into the midst of the moving army. He allowed the illusion to fade slightly, easing the strain from the disguise he worked to maintain. He noted the glowing signatures of Vox and Paelec among the rear ranks. Paasek and Ramm, the largest among the group, had been ushered out earlier, hidden in the midst of the previous group.

  Though Ryl’s focus remained on the illusion, his eyes continued their perpetual motion, scanning the surroundings for any signs of threats. There had been no deceit in his words earlier; his sentiment was true. He harbored little fear of attack. Though it was certain their departure, as with all of their activities, was being secretly watched, he doubted that any would attempt to molest the departing force. In that one element, there was a true measure of overlap between the desires of the defiant House Eligar and the remainder of the nobles. With House Eligar’s departure, the defense of The Stocks would further be weakened.

  A varying mix of emotions registered on the faces of the guards manning the gates as well as those atop the palisades as they watched the departing force. Ryl saw trepidation and, in a few cases, fear. Most, however, were overcome by a look of respect. Those who had been inside the walls, Le’Dral’s rogue force and the army of Cadsae Proper, acknowledged the true value of their presence. Politics and personal feelings toward the tributes aside, it was this meager army who had stood atop the walls when they returned from their fruitless pursuit of the tributes. The blades and bows of House Eligar were focused outward, not within.

  Silent nods of thanks rippled through those watching.

  With the mighty doors of the Pining Gates ajar, the inky blackness that had always been a pervasive element there had been banished. Sunlight streamed into the entrance. The rumble of their footsteps roared like thunder as the sound was momentarily trapped beneath the stone.

  The panoramic views of the city that greeted them were dramatic. The former habitations of thousands of citizens were devoid of color. Varying hues of greys mingled with the blackened wood and charred stone. In the distance, the vibrant azure water of the Sea of Prosper was a stark contrast to the lifeless void that was Cadsae Proper.

  At his feet the stones of the square had been spared much of the heat and flame of the fires that consumed the city, though they were scarred nonetheless. Near the center of the clearing where Ryl had faced Leiroth and the king, the ground had been bleached to nearly pristine white. The epicenter of his explosive power. The detonation had been terrifying. As they progressed, the stones slowly reverted to their original coloration as the unexpected force of the blast had waned.

  The weight of a hand on his shoulder distracted him from his investigation.

  “How are you holding up, Ryl?” Cray whispered.

  “For the moment, I’m well. Thank you,” he replied with a smile though the effort in itself was draining. He could feel the strain of the illusion; the
alexen in his veins churned to carry on the ruse, though with every passing step they slowed. On the horizon, the masts of the ships stabbing upward over the top of the ruined city were a welcome sight, yet a tease, as the distance was still considerable.

  Cray nodded as his vision turned from Ryl to the city that surrounded them.

  Few structures within eyesight remained undamaged, many having been reduced to piles of charred rubble. They were unmarked tombs of stone and burnt wood signifying the countless thousands who had been slaughtered here at the hands of the king’s greed.

  Of a single phrenic’s greed.

  The rhythmic cadence of their march was the only noise to disturb the eerie still of the dead city. Ryl remained cautious in his survey of the area. He watched the alleys and structures with trepidation, careful to spot any motion or threats.

  All was still. All was quiet.

  The city was dead, a haunting reminder of the carnage, of the lives that had been lost. The acrid sting of smoke lingered, though the avenue they travelled carried a distinct undertone of something foul. He doubted that there was anything that would truly remove the stench of the Horde. Rivers of blackened blood had run down these stones.

  Without command, the army increased their pace, surging onward to the awaiting ships.

  Chapter 27

  Ryl sank heavily into the chair as the last trace of the ruse was lifted. The sturdy, cushioned seat enveloped his body as the weariness took hold. The last several hundred meters through the city had passed in a blur. By that point, his focus had become singular. He’d poured every ounce of his strength into maintaining the illusion.

  The progress of the army had ground to a halt as they reached the docks. Noting Ryl’s struggle, Andr had pushed their contingent forward, easing through the troops as they bottlenecked before the solitary ramp. None had voiced their displeasure as they moved through the ranks, though their eagerness to be free of the lifeless city was evident.

  Ryl squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, working to steady his labored breathing. With every deep inhale and steady exhale, a touch of the weariness faded. The alexen were shockingly quick to recover their endurance, though at the moment he was loath to sever the comforting embrace of the chair that supported him.

  He was aware of the conversations that occurred around him yet paid them little mind. The gentle rocking of the frigate on the calm waters of the port was soothing. He fought the urge to sleep.

  It wasn’t long before the steady rumble of boots on the deck reduced. The clamber of boisterous conversations reduced to a dull murmur as the soldiers descended into the levels below. It had been a little over a cycle since Ryl’s first experience on the sea. He recalled the disposition of the lower levels of the vessel, though he’d been allowed no time to investigate, as he had been relegated to the small cell below.

  He could hear the orders shouted at the men topside clearly now that the last of the troops had abandoned the deck. There was a sudden lurch as the ship shifted forward, casting off the docks. The sense of motion was dizzying, his fingers unintentionally squeezing the wooden arms of the chair for support.

  “Welcome aboard.” Fay’s voice rang clear as he entered the room.

  Ryl opened his eyes as the lord strode into the crowded chamber. The room was similar in dimensions to the one where he’d first been introduced to Lord Eligar and Andr. Though the construction featured ornate designs and spoke of considerable wealth, the gaudy elements, the gold coating, the opulent bed and couches were replaced by those of more functional, utilitarian design. Though a large table dominated the center of the room, several cots had been arranged along its outskirts.

  He took a momentary survey of his companions. All seemed to be faring well at the onset, though only time and the attitude of the sea would tell. Cray, Tash and Palon did little to hide their childlike excitement. The trio was packed against the far wall, eyes glued to the watery gap that now separated them from the city that had been destined to be their permanent prison home.

  Ryl understood their feelings. The nostalgia was potent. For cycles, almost half of their young lives, they had been forced into slavery inside the wall of The Stocks. For time out of mind, there had only been one exit, one escape from its torturous confines. The truth of the ending was never expressed, though none anticipated it would be less forgiving than the cycles endured under the withering glares and stinging abuse from their guards.

  “I assure you, the views are far more remarkable from above.” Fay’s voice interrupted his moment of remembrance. “You’re free to venture anywhere you please, as this vessel will be your home for the next few days. Be mindful to stay out of the way of the sailors; though they are trusted members of my house, they are not typically known for their cordial manners. Enjoy the views now. I’ll have food prepared. There will likely be much to discuss later.”

  Without waiting for further approval, the three unawakened hastened from the room. Paasek shook his head subtly, sighing as he followed the trio.

  “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Fay added as the door closed behind the retreating trio. He crossed the room, seating himself with a sigh on the couch that lined the side wall.

  “Aye, much has changed in the last cycle,” Ryl acknowledged. The truth couldn’t be more potent. “I long for the day we can meet in peace.”

  Fay smiled as he reclined comfortably on the couch.

  “All there is left to do is for you to see it through, my friend,” Fay added. He closed his eyes. The grin grew as if he pictured the reality that was within grasp.

  “Don’t make light of the changes you’ve wrought, Ryl,” he added. “You can’t alter the course of the entire kingdom in one night.”

  Ryl understood the sentiment. There would always be an element of division, of distrust, no matter how idyllic a civilization. It would take time to grasp the concept of free will, of self-determination that had been bred out of them for generations. Complacency to the evils of the Ascertaining Decree, the selling of children, the forced slavery, the miserable, torturous end needed to stop.

  Greed, he knew, would be eternal.

  Nothing good came from the tremendous accumulation of wealth, of power and control hoarded over generations of unnaturally extended life. The cycle would need to be broken.

  His gaze hardened as he scanned the room where his companions, his friends, made themselves comfortable however they could. Guards of Damaris would fight side by side with the defenders of Vim. The tributes, persecuted for ages, would stand shoulder to shoulder with the phrenics, the realization of the powers they would one day wield.

  They would be the change.

  The afternoon progressed into evening. Ryl stood topside, watching the sun slip below the horizon far to the west. The mighty palisades, the devastated city of Cadsae Proper were nothing more than a darkened smudge on the horizon. A pair of frigates followed close in their wake. To their front, a mighty wedge of several dozen vessels moved in formation. Small fishing boats, seeking a living plying the fertile waters of the Sea of Prosper, and ships likely carrying messages to the capital fled at the sight of their approach.

  Night fell, and a new day stretched on and ended, yet their armada remained unmolested. The sea was forgiving, and the winds fortuitous, pushing them ever closer to the capital city far to the east. There was little to do aboard the limited confines of the vessel as the days passed save for plotting the crude outlines of their mission. Their objectives, though lofty, were fairly simple. Without laying eyes on the disposition of the troops that surrounded and manned the walls of Leremont, concrete plans were somewhat of a futility at the present. The descriptions of the recently arrived mender, Mender Brahn, rang with the notes of truth, yet uncertainty remained. Averine had been steadfast in his acceptance, in his approval, in the validity of his companion.

  Ryl spent much of his time practicing the control of his newly understood skills of illusion. The rate of his recovery shocked him, though he attempte
d to maintain a steady feeling of weariness as he pushed his skills further and further to the limit. His endurance grew at a startling rate as he progressed with a varied complexity of visions. He could feel the understanding, the strength, the knowledge as it streamed from within. The action came to feel as if it had been second nature, as if he’d trained with the skills since he was but a child.

  Paasek and the phrenics remained diligent in their training of the unawakened in their midst. Though there was limited room for sparring, the experienced warriors focused on the emotional understandings of the powers that were blooming inside their veins. Ryl experienced the surges of projected emotions from the trio. The focus and the power grew rapidly as the skills were practiced under the watchful eyes of the phrenics. Palon, though he remained silent, thrived with his enhanced agility. To the astonishment of the hardened soldiers, he made short work of scurrying up the rigging to the crow’s nest high above. He perched on the lookout, alighting as a bird does on a branch.

  As evening descended on their fourth day, Fay summoned Ryl topside, leading him to the bow of the frigate. Behind them, the last sliver of the burning orb dipped beneath the horizon. Far in the distance, the land to the north rose as it jutted out into the sea. Tiny reflections, mere flashes of light, glistened off shiny surfaces, though the origins were far too distant to decipher.

  “The coastline curls to the south a bit before heading due east again,” Fay illustrated, his eyes remaining on the horizon. “The land slopes back toward the water for a time though it rises again many miles further to the east. What you see reflecting there is just a small settlement. At the base of the next rise, the city of Leremont spreads out in concentric circles. The ridge above it houses the palatial estates and the Hall of the King.”

  “I find it curious that we’ve encountered no navy,” Ryl commented. “Surely the kingdom has not left the seas unprotected.”