The Weight of Darkness (Catalyst Book 5)

by C. J. Aaron

  Fay shrugged his shoulders even as he shook his head.

  “They likely see no reason to engage us at sea,” Fay responded. “House Eligar commands a fleet that can easily rival that which the great houses can muster. My father’s treaty with the Isle of Mattume allows for a permanent garrison of guards and shipbuilders. They risk the chance of a catastrophic loss at sea. Lord Kagran will want to keep his forces consolidated on dry land.”

  Fay turned to Ryl before continuing. “He will seek resolution to the situation on land. The loss of the tributes must be remedied before he can attempt a coordinated move against any other.” There was a hint of sadness in his voice. “His sway over the other houses is tenuous at best. They desire something, which at the moment he and only he can provide. Any failure will loosen his hold. A catastrophic failure could seal his doom.”

  Ryl couldn’t argue with the logic. Kagran’s ambition was twisted, as was the king who ruled before him. Lunek the Third had sat on the throne for longer than any could have imagined. His hold over the populous, nobles included, could have survived based on that mere fact alone. As the original architect of the Ascertaining Decree, he was as much a part of the fabric of the kingdom, twisted as it might be. In appearance, at least, the Lei Guard answered to him and to him alone.

  Ryl questioned the truth of yet another fallacy perpetrated by the kingdom for ages. Did the black-cloaked guards owe their allegiance to Leiroth and therefore the king by command, or was it merely strength that held sway over their actions? The answer was tantalizingly absent. With every wave the pointed prow severed, he felt the impending collision drawing nearer. He’d have the answer soon enough.

  Heavy footsteps, echoing on the planks, signaled the approach of another. Ryl and Fay turned their heads in unison, seeking the identity of the newcomer.

  “See the smoke that rises from the north?” the captain of the frigate barked. His voice was salty, a touch louder and more boisterous than expected from normal conversation. An ingrained habit after countless cycles riding the waves of the Sea of Prosper.

  “The second half of the new regent’s army,” he continued. “Around ten days to two weeks’ march from reinforcing their comrades at the walls of Cadsae Proper. From here they’re about a three-day march to the capital city.”

  Ryl was surprised by the pace of the army. He’d expected that their arrival would have been timed to arrive at the gates the day their response was due. The thought that ripped through his mind was chilling. Lord Kagran had no fear of resistance from the forces within. Between the army already within easy reach of the city and the dissidents among the Cadsae Guard, he anticipated a rout.

  His plan curiously showed little concern for the phrenics. In the close quarters of the alley leading to the Pining Gates, few had witnessed the true power of the cloaked warriors. They were routinely absent from the swelling city inside the gates. It was little secret that the mythical warriors chose to seclude themselves inside the confines of the forest. The overconfidence in the superiority of numbers was unsettling. Was there something more, something devious that Ryl was missing?

  “Thank you, Captain Marish.” Lord Eligar smiled as he greeted the officer.

  The captain was a stout man, shorter of stature, yet he still bore the muscle built and maintained from a life working the rigging of sailing vessels. He was an older man; the majority of his hair was more of a salty white, though patches of dark brown were scattered throughout. His beard, though close cropped, was still barely all his natural shade, standing out in stark contrast to his whitening hair. He squeezed between the pair, leaning heavily against the railing, studying the disposition of the ships as they forged ahead.

  “We’ll reach the waters around the capital sometime in the middle of the night. Once we pass the peninsula, we’ll angle further away from land than we’ve managed so far.” He noted the cliffs of the protruding land that grew closer as they plowed through the crest of another wave. “I expect we’ll run into whatever form of blockade they’ll choose to muster. We’ll give them as wide a berth as comfortable. It’ll likely be a good few miles from shore.”

  Ryl closed his eyes with the captain’s description, allowing his memory to access the wealth of information inside his veins. Though he’d been on sea once in his life, the experiences of those who’d traveled the waves generations before made it feel natural. Enhanced agility aside, the sensation of the rolling of the ship was familiar, as if his balance had grown steady over cycles.

  At the moment, the ingrained acceptance of the sea’s motion was not his primary cause. He delved deep, searching for knowledge of the coastline that spanned the area between the peninsula and the outskirts of the capital city. After passing the towering cliffs of the peninsula, the contours of the land quickly returned to meet the rolling waves of the sea. Short ledges of loose rocks, smoothed and rounded by the constant pounding of the waves, were the norm for the majority of the distance. Closer to the capital, scattered beaches and dunes separated the rocky coastline. The ports of Leremont stretched out to the west, surpassing the border of the outermost ring of the city by half a mile.

  “You’ll need to make land without being seen,” Fay added. His eyes squinted as they moved along the rocky shore more than a mile to their north.

  Ryl opened his eyes. He was satisfied by the unexpected wealth of knowledge that had presented itself on command. It corroborated the descriptions provided by Captain Marish.

  He understood the need for subtlety. They would only need to maintain the ruse for so long. Their message was intended to do more than merely stoke the fires of change.

  Chaos was a likely and welcome result.

  The evil that had permeated the minds and hearts of too many was not something that required change. With the taint of the nexela flowing inside their veins, there would be no change of heart.

  He focused his attention skyward. A dark silhouette of a large black bird twisted above as it rode easily on the wind. The circle tightened rapidly as it swooped lower. It hovered for a moment as it flapped its large wings before alighting on the railing before Lord Eligar. The creature tilted its head slightly, hopping side to side, seemingly appraising the young lord with its beady, inquisitive eyes.

  Ryl sighed as he let the illusion fade. Though natural enough, there was something off to the motions of the giant bird. It hopped along the railing with movements that seemed mechanical, not organic. Though his heart thundered in his chest, racing after the application of the skill, the wear on his energy was minimal.

  “Under the cover of darkness, we should slip through whatever line they choose to form.” Ryl paused for a moment to catch his breath. “How far beyond that point is the capital?”

  “It’s almost a two-day walk from there,” Marish replied. “Even if the entire navy at Leremont sailed in the blockade, the line would be porous. There’s a stretch perhaps half the distance where a reef juts out into the sea. The underwater shelf runs for about a half mile. Many ships and sailors have been lost on those rocks. Any large vessel will give it a wide berth, especially without the sun to guide the way.”

  “Will we reach it in time?” Ryl quizzed.

  “If the seas remain as they have throughout the day, we’ll reach it well beyond the cover of darkness,” the captain agreed as his gaze moved skyward, studying the rolling clouds being dyed varying shades of color as they soaked up the final rays of the sun’s light. “Darkness falls quickly over the ocean. I’ll have the men ready the skiffs as soon as the light fades. It’ll be another six or eight hours.”

  Ryl took leave of the Captain Marish and Lord Eligar, returning to the cramped suite to attempt a measure of last minute rest. There was little planning yet to be done. They would need to be agile, adapting on the fly as the situations presented themselves. Any information they’d received, though credible, was days, if not weeks old. Much could have changed in that time.

  Sleep came with trouble. His head churned with possibilities.
Solutions to problems yet to arise. What would the nature of the blockade be once they rounded the rocky corner? Once on shore, how would they gain access to the city? Of all, Cavlin was the most knowledgeable concerning the layout of the city. Millis, though his input was invaluable, ceded to him where matters of direction and the disposition of the capital were concerned. Eventually, the gentle rocking and the constant hiss of the waters as the frigate knifed through the waves lulled him to sleep.

  Ryl was snapped from his sleep by the distant boom of what sounded like thunder. The frantic rumble of footsteps outside and on the deck above spoke of something out of the ordinary. Outside the window, the darkness of the night was thick; only the diffused glow of the moon through the clouds above illuminated the seas beyond.

  Inside their chamber, the lanterns suspended from the walls swung gently with the ebb and flow of the sea’s waves. The dim glow cast moving shadows across the room. All of his companions had stirred with the unexpected activity. Ryl steadied himself against the waves as he rose to his feet. Outside, a single condensed flash sparked from the horizon, though well in the distance behind them. The report of the explosion followed an instant later.

  The door of their chamber swung violently open. The inward swing crashed into the wall unchecked, as Cavlin made no attempt to stop it as he strode purposefully into the room.

  “Cannons,” he growled. “On your feet. We need to leave now.”

  The guard exited as quickly as he had entered. Ryl noted no trace of hitch to his step as he hastened from the room.

  For a few moments the activity inside the chamber rivaled the bustle of the deck outside. It took but a moment for Ryl to collect his pack, striding from the room, allowing the others more space to collect theirs.

  Cavlin and Andr waited a few paces outside the door, tucked out of the way of the sailors against the wall of their quarters. Both guard and mercenary nodded in greeting as he approached.

  “Is it us they fire on?” Ryl quizzed. “How many ships are engaged?”

  Neither had an opportunity to speak as Lord Eligar answered for them. He slid down the ladder from the deck above. He did little to hide the sense of urgency in his voice.

  “They’ve yet to target us,” Fay interjected. He cast a worried glance to their rear as a rapid series of thumps erupted from another point to the south of the first. The horizon flashed with a blinding white light, though it faded as quickly as it had come. For an instant the black silhouette of the frigate stood out against the darkness that surrounded it.

  “I have no idea how many vessels are in pursuit, whether it’s one or that the whole host will follow; the message is telling,” Fay growled. “That vessel is the most ornately decorated frigate in the fleet today. It also flies the standard of my house. It was a ruse, meant to draw attention, test the motives of our new regent.”

  As he spoke, a second ship closer to the shore joined in the fray, with small flashes from the explosive discharge of the cannons.

  “That flag was to signify my presence aboard,” Lord Eligar explained. “Lord Kagran tips his hand. The kingdom will stop at nothing to silence their adversaries. The political fallout will not be severe, but there will be some, though silent, who strongly disagree with the attack.”

  The thunder from the rear of the fleet grew steadier as more of the ships that formed Lord Eligar’s rear guard engaged their attackers. It became evident that the kingdom had hoped for a surprise victory, though there was never any intention of a long, drawn-out naval battle. Judging from the flashes in the distance, there were only two vessels that fired on the fleet.

  “Fools,” Marish cursed as he stormed toward the group. “This was not a tactic I had expected. They’ve pinned themselves between the shore and a significantly larger force.”

  In the final moments of the setting sun, they had seen the mighty line of ships that formed the blockade. Though loosely spaced, the masts of their number could be seen bobbing on the horizon as far as their eyes could see.

  They had obviously tracked the vessel expected to be carrying Lord Eligar. Spread out as they were, they hadn’t the number or the resources to engage the entire fleet. Fay’s vessels sailed in a tight group, packed in close quarters stretching out over a matter of a few miles.

  This strike had been surgical. A strategic maneuver meant to inflict the greatest damage on a single target. No matter what happened aboard the ill-fated vessel, if Lord Eligar’s fleet was to retaliate against the remaining ships of the blockade, there would likely be few survivors. Even though it would have been a justifiable action, Fay and his sailors would be seen as butchers. The kingdom would have turned on him. Tales of his soldiers standing the lines against the Horde had likely spread far and wide by this point. What graces they received for the action would have been sabotaged.

  “Couldn’t Vox set the ship ablaze?” Cray’s voice rang with anger, his eyes wide as he watched the naval battle wane through the cover of darkness. Ryl’s companions had all gathered on the deck, though they were careful to remain out of the way of the sailors hastening through their prescribed duties.

  Ryl looked at the phrenic elementalist, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

  “They are far, yet he could likely do just that,” Ryl acknowledged. “That would serve us little purpose. To this point, they are unaware of our presence outside the palisade’s walls.”

  “As I said, we have no intention of sending a message here,” Lord Eligar added. “We will defend ourselves if provoked, yet my sailors will seek only to disable. The significance of this attack will ring clear, yet they will follow orders. Enough talk, we’re ahead of schedule, but this is as good a time as any. You should make landfall a few miles to the west of the reef.”

  Captain Marish barked out orders to his passing men, diverting the attention from preparing their defenses to hoisting the small skiffs overboard. Lord Eligar’s gaze moved across the gathering, pausing for a moment on Andr before stopping on Ryl.

  “It seems we will say farewell again on hostile seas, my friend,” Fay noted. There was a well-disguised touch of sadness to his voice. The concern, however, was palpable. “When we meet again, I hope the kingdom will be a safer place.”

  “The journey ahead is less uncertain this time, thanks again to you,” Ryl added. Fay stepped forward, bringing him into a tight yet brief embrace.

  “Remember, you always have a home and a friend waiting for you in Cantros,” he whispered before separating from Ryl and addressing the group. A wry smile crossed his face. “Keep him safe. You travel with a duke of House Eligar.”

  Few words were exchanged as the others began boarding the small skiffs.

  “A moment, please, before you leave, my friend.” Fay stopped Andr with a hand on his shoulder. The mercenary looked at Ryl before nodding to the young lord.

  Ryl moved with the others to the waiting boats suspended from the side of the vessel. Thankfully the seas were relatively calm; their swing was mild compared to his last venture into the Sea of Prosper. He glanced over his shoulder, catching both Fay and Andr staring at him while they talked. With a nod of his head, he acknowledged the pair before returning his attention to assisting the others scrambling aboard the boats. A few moments later, the mercenary again reached his side, grinning as their eyes met. It was an unexpected, knowing look, yet the elder man said nothing as the gaze passed. Ryl smiled to himself, shaking his head subtly. If there was anything he’d learned of his companion after their time spent together, it was that when the time was right, Andr would divulge that which was important.

  It took but a matter of tenuous moments for his companions to board the pair of skiffs hanging precariously over the railing of the frigate. Ryl was the last to board, easing carefully over the railing onto the swinging skiff. His feet had barely reached the deck when the sailors began lowering them toward the darkened waters below. The descent was reckless.

  Though it was a process likely practiced countless times, their boat st
ruck the water with unexpected force. In total, seven of them were cramped into each of the small vessels, which were only a little larger than the skiff he and Andr had escaped using, running from the fury of the storm. Ryl found himself sprawled on top of Cray and Tash. Andr cursed as he gained his footing, struggling to control the vessel in the rolling water. Vox and Ramm steadied themselves against the gunnels, while Palon alone seemed unfazed, perched like a living figurehead at the bow of the skiff.

  Ryl cast a quick glance to his rear as the splash behind them signaled the second boat reaching the water. The team lowering the others had judged the distance more appropriately. Without a sound, the boat slipped away from the edge of the vessel, letting its small sail unfurl in the gentle breeze. Among the group, Millis was the second most experienced sailor behind Andr. Though the knowledge likely resided somewhere deep inside his brain, Ryl was loath to commandeer control from a more seasoned sailor. His skills would likely be put to the test before they again reached the security of shore. Illusion was a newfound, taxing addition to his overwhelming array of talents. The application, though it grew easier by the day, was still withering, requiring an incredible amount of attention and energy. He couldn’t risk that focus while also attempting to navigate the small vessel.

  It was only a moment before Andr gained control of their skiff. The violently churning sea along the edge of the frigate eased as they gained distance from her hull. The salty mist that foamed from the peaks of the waves alongside their host and clouded the air cleared as they slipped quietly away.

  The sea was peaceful compared to his last expedition into her depths. It was a miracle that they had survived the wrath of the storm that nearly crushed them into the jagged cliffs of the Outlands. Had they been much further out to sea when the waves had tossed them into the icy waters, he had little expectation that either of them would have survived. From the information that Captain Marish had relayed, the shoreline was only a matter of a few short miles from where they had abandoned the security of their host. With the exception of Andr, all inside the vessel had been ordered to keep as low a profile as possible. In the depth of the night, under the control of a less than masterful captain, one errant gust of wind that caught in the sails could spell their doom. The swinging boom would strike like a hammer. There was little hope for any who were thrown overboard.