Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2)

by C. J. Aaron

The nightmare had left him little chance to return to sleep. As was his norm on mornings like these, Ryl quietly padded across the hall, descending the stairs to the underground training circle where he could enjoy training in solitude.

  His skills had blossomed since his awakening. The mindsight showed his phrenic companions with ease; the woodskin responded nearly automatically; and the soulborne wind was more focused and powerful. When he drank deep from the power focusing on speed, there was no phrenic in the city who could lay a hand on him.

  As much as he enjoyed the success of his primary skills, the absence of any knowledge or progress decoding the mystery surrounding the unusual tattoo on his left arm was a cause of constant consternation. Ryl sat cross-legged in the center of the earthen training circle. His mind was focused on unlocking the secrets hidden within his marked skin.

  The soft padding of footsteps alerted him to another's presence before he verified with his mindsight. Among all the phrenics in the city, he spent the most time with his current scout detail. Since his awakening and the subsequent recovery of his ailing companions, they had become nearly inseparable.

  There were subtle differences in the individual signatures of each of the phrenics as he viewed them through his mindsight. At first the insignificant deviations were close to imperceptible. After his awakening, the minute differences now seemed glaringly obvious. Ryl needn't see them with his eyes to tell them apart. Their signature became as recognizable to his mind as their faces were to his eyes.

  “Good morning, Kaep,” Ryl said, turning his head, greeting the phrenic with a smile. Her signature glowed the brightest of his scout group; he could pick her out of a crowd of phrenics almost instantly.

  “How d’you know it was me?” Kaep asked.

  She, along with the others had difficulty recognizing who was who using the mindsight alone.

  She shrugged off her own question, not waiting for an answer.

  “The Council’s summoned us,” she said plainly. “They await our arrival.”

  She paused momentarily.

  “Was it the dreams again?” she asked. The tone of her voice had altered. Her words conveyed compassion and understanding.

  “Aye, Kaep. The same one,” Ryl admitted woefully. “And I'm afraid I'm still no closer to deciphering any meaning or purpose for these markings than I was before.”

  Kaep knelt in front of him, her hazel eyes locking onto his.

  “Fear not,” she comforted. “The blood will tell you when the time is right.”

  Kaep extended her covered arm, lending it for assistance as Ryl rose from the ground of the training circle. Ever since the first time their skin had touched, the memories of the magnetic connection danced in the recesses of his mind. They’d spent innumerable hours together, consumed with their training, yet their skin had never touched since. Ryl could clearly feel the pull of the energy in his hand through the fabric of her cloak. The feeling had grown significantly since his awakening. They’d never spoken of the feeling, nor had he divulged the information to anyone.

  Ryl followed Kaep as she hastened up the stairs before collecting the rest of their scout party that waited in the hall above. He pulled the hood up over his head as they exited the Hall of the Phrenic, the rest of the team donning theirs as well.

  The morning sun had crested over the peaks of their mountain wall to the east. The hood shielded his eyes from the direct assault from the rays of light as they exited through the doorway. The avenue held steady foot traffic; the citizens they passed nodded politely in greeting, yet moved aside allowing for their passage. Their determined walk continued uninterrupted into the Great Hall.

  The elderly chamberlain appeared to have nodded off as they entered the hall. His head jerked up as Kaep cleared her throat politely. His eyes took a moment to focus before he smiled, ushering them on with a wave of his arm.

  “The Council waits within,” his raspy voice disclosed.

  The Vigil standing guard opened the doors as they approached, closing them with a thud after they had entered the auditorium.

  Muffled conversation in the great hall echoed around the room. The large amphitheater could easily seat thousands, yet was now virtually empty save for the Council, Andr and the four Vigil that would be accompanying Ryl and the phrenics. Though he could make out no distinct words, even their hushed voices were amplified thanks to the acoustics of the room.

  Ryl followed the other phrenics down the wide central staircase, taking up their seats in the front row on the left-hand side of the aisle. Andr and their Vigil counterparts sat on the right. Ryl exchanged a quick smile and a nod with his friend.

  Since his awakening and the increase in training, he’d been afforded less time with Andr. Their separate and rigorous schedules allowed them little free time in between. They shared the same suite, but with the end of each passing day, exhaustion reduced their idle time together. Though their reasons were different, their goals were aligned. Ryl knew they were both consumed by their focus on their return to The Stocks.

  Ryl for the tributes.

  Andr for his son.

  The greatest length of time they shared had been in one of the two training grounds. Their duels in the outside grounds regularly attracted large crowds. The audience, seldom including more than just Vigil, adamantly cheered for their tutor. There was no vocal support for Ryl, though it bothered him not.

  At the onset of his training with the Vigil, many moons now in the past, the unfamiliarity with the new weapons was a mild hinderance. Now, Ryl worked in perfect harmony with his varied complement of weaponry. His natural speed had increased after his awakening, and it was rare that he needed any added boost of assistance; he could easily fend off the improved Vigil.

  Their lessons had been learned through bruises and checked egos. Even in coordinated groups, Ryl never allowed a single blow from the trainees to hit home. His greatest challenger from the Vigil came at the hands of Nielix. The jaded soldier had not yet relinquished his unfounded animosity toward Ryl, spurring himself on to greater heights to inflict any pain on the more skilled phrenic. His insults bounced off Ryl’s skin like water, his blows were parried or dodged with ease.

  Nielix’s failures in facing Ryl only served to stoke his training to another level. Before the onset of their daily sparring with the phrenics, the Vigil had been skilled, yet cocky and carefree in their approach. All had since grown exponentially more talented and confident. None more so than Nielix.

  The potent realization of the death that lurked in the shadows outside their home had dealt a fatal blow to the Vigil’s lax approach. They now had a horrifying understanding of what was at stake. They had accepted the challenge of advanced training wholeheartedly.

  Likewise, Ryl had accepted his training unconditionally. He refused to access his skills during his public bouts with his friend. It was a welcome challenge and invaluable lessons were instilled from the pain. The battles would ebb back and forth as the pair exchanged blow after blow. They ended their sessions the same way. Andr would praise Ryl’s natural or inherited skill and offer pointers where he saw fit. It was in their private sparring sessions where the two opponents put each other’s skills to the test.

  Andr had been granted the rare privilege of training with Ryl in the private chamber beneath the Hall of the Phrenic. He encouraged, and challenged Ryl to utilize his powers, if only to a small extent. They both profited from the experience, though the older mercenary was typically on the losing side of the contest when Ryl tapped into his true powers.

  Ryl’s focus shifted back to the council. The expressions on their faces were stern. All had looks of uncommon apprehension.

  “Thank you for coming on short notice,” Councilwoman Irie announced once the phrenics had taken their seats. Within the closed confines of the Great Hall they removed their hoods one by one.

  “At long last, the preparations have been completed,” she continued. “It will be with great sadness and hope that we bid you farewell
on the morrow.”

  There was true melancholy in her voice. Ryl did not envy the position the Council was in. He knew the decision had been arrived at with difficulty. Even though their terms were ending soon, the actions they authorized would forever be remembered, either as a crowning success or catastrophic failure.

  “Tomorrow will mark the beginning of a new era for Vim,” Irie explained. “In the history of our great city, there has never been an expedition sent back into Damaris. Only a single phrenic has ever stepped foot back onto the ground of our ancestors.”

  Irie paused. She and the other counselors exchanged meaningful glances, before she nodded to Councilwoman Lenu. Ryl was not alone in his confusion after her previous statement. He knew of no record of anyone from Vim ever returning to the Kingdom of Damaris.

  “Until this point, you’ve been planning for an expedition that would take you along the base of the Haven Mountain’s eastward to the outskirts of the western palisade. Those plans have changed,” Councilwoman Lenu stated dryly. “The events at the Prophet’s Tree and increased attention of the Horde along the borders of the forest have prompted us to alter our plans.”

  Ryl was as taken aback by the last-minute, unexpected changes as were the rest of the assembled travelers. In truth, the plan to travel along the edge of the mountains had long since bothered Ryl. It was true, the attention of the Horde at the outskirts of the forest had grown considerably from what had been the norm for over a thousand cycles. It was quickly noted that whenever he accompanied his scout detail, the numbers would swell substantially. Though there were thankfully no additional attacks, he had been forbidden from accompanying them on their patrols as a precaution.

  By all estimation, the distance would take the small party the better part of a moon to complete. How would the Horde behave as they travelled through the forest, crossing the hundreds of miles between Vim and The Stocks? Would they be under constant assault, or would the tide of death swell, following them to the borders of the human kingdom?

  “Know that serious deliberation and consideration has been given to calling the expedition off in its entirety,” Lenu interrupted his thoughts.

  He immediately felt that familiar heat from the anger burning inside of him at the mention of cancelling the expedition. Paasek must have noted the sudden change in emotion, as he politely interrupted the councilwoman.

  “Fear not, the expedition will proceed,” Paasek commented, as a wave of calm streamed from his core, temporarily satiating Ryl’s growing angst.

  Lenu looked slightly put off by the interruption, shooting an unpleasant glare in the direction of the phrenic councilor. She was blissfully oblivious to the true intent of his interruption.

  “There is information that must be brought to light that will be revealed only under the strictest confidence that mention of it will never leave this room,” Paasek demanded. “I’ll have all of your agreements before I continue.”

  Paasek waited with arms crossed as all acknowledged his demands. When all present had voiced their acceptance, he relaxed slightly as he continued

  “The founders of our great city went to incredible lengths to ensure the continued survival of Vim,” he explained. “As all are aware, there were but two exits from the city. One has now been all but sealed off with the uncertainty surrounding the advances of the Horde.”

  He paused leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the large table.

  “There is far too much danger in sending you through the forest,” Paasek continued. “There is, however, another way.”

  Nielix sprang to his feet, anger burning in his eyes.

  “Is this another lie, yet another deception from our hallowed phrenic?” he spat.

  “Enough, Vigil,” Lenu screamed as she shot to her feet. “Need I remind you already of the oath you’ve just taken. This was information that has been kept in confidence by the Council for a thousand cycles. Your anger is unwarranted and unproductive. You can be removed from this expedition at any time.”

  For a moment it appeared that a struggle waged inside the embattled Vigil’s mind as he teetered on the verge of continuing his verbal assault.

  “Sit,” Lenu growled. “Now.”

  Deflated by the rage of the councilor, Nielix flopped down onto the stone bench without a word. His arms crossed, his head down. Lenu remained standing, though her voice softened a touch.

  “Please carry on, Councilor Paasek,” she hissed. Paasek glared at the downtrodden guard.

  “As I was saying, the Council has guarded the secret for ages,” Paasek continued. “In the case that the outer walls were overrun, there is an alternative means for escape.”

  He paused to take a sip from the water cup on the table in front of him.

  “It wasn’t long after the founding of Vim that the discovery was made,” Paasek explained. “Within the mines, there is a long since shuttered shaft leading west. The miners delved deep, striking the edge of the underground river, flooding their path forward. A small survey tunnel was hastily dug from where the water level stopped, reaching the bank of the river a short distance later.”

  “Join me,” Paasek announced, motioning for the group to approach the large stone table that the councilors sat behind. Carefully arranged on the top was a large map detailing the Kingdom of Damaris. Ryl shuddered as his eyes were immediately drawn to the rectangular portion in the southwestern corner.

  To The Stocks.

  The western edge of the map was marked with a nearly straight line of mountains. The range ran from where The Stocks ended to the edge of the Frozen Sea, far to the north. Paasek placed his finger down, roughly in the middle of the line of mountains.

  “The river runs under the mountains, continuing west from Vim, to where it feeds into the Sunfall Lake, the western of the Sister Lakes,” he said as his finger traced a line across the map, stopping as it came to a rest over the westernmost of the two large lakes that dominated the center of the map. “Between the Sunfall Lake and the mountains lays an inhospitable area known as The Crags. The jagged rock formations there form a deadly labyrinth that stretches for miles in every direction.”

  Paasek lifted his finger from the map.

  “Along the bank of the river, runs a narrow path, in places, no wider than a meter,” Paasek whispered. “It has been a long time, ages in fact, since the journey has been last attempted, yet it is in the center of The Crags that the hidden tunnel exits the mountains.”

  “How long is the tunnel?” Andr asked.

  “The exact measurements are not known,” Irie answered for the Council. “The estimates are it that is stretches several hundred miles.”

  Andr let out a low whistle.

  “So we may be underground in excess of a week?” he quizzed.

  “Aye, that looks to be the case,” Paasek groaned. “A stash of bedrolls, lanterns, fuel and torches and an ample supply of gold coin have already been secreted away at the head of the tunnel. I’m afraid there will be no celebration, no parades to lead you out of the city. You will vanish tonight under the cover of darkness.”

  “What about the rest of Vim?” Nielix complained. “There will be questions that will need answering. The people will not be kind when your deceit is uncovered. Again.”

  Ryl could feel the anger growing in Paasek, though the councilor did an admirable job maintaining his composure.

  “That is a problem you needn’t worry about, Nielix. We have not come to this decision lightly. The explanation and any repercussions will be ours to bear,” Councilwoman Irie intoned. “You have your task ahead of you. Maintain your focus where it is required. There will be true tests that lay ahead.”

  “How will we find the exit to the tunnel?” Ryl asked. “And once we are free of the darkness, how will we find our way through the maze of The Crags?”

  “The tunnel had been reported to have no offshoots from the main path,” Paasek continued with his description. “Be wary, should you encounter anything within.
There were no signs of any creatures lingering in the dark, yet rumors of unexplained noises abound.”

  The thought of unseen attackers in the night harkened back memories that Ryl had worked to suppress. The lingering nightmares from the cycles past were all too real. The vicious, clawed hands that struck out from every angle in the dark. He shook his head, ridding the thought as he concentrated on Paasek’s words.

  “The exit to the tunnel is guarded much in the same way the entrance to Vim is disguised. The phrenics will know the way to unlock it,” Paasek explained. “As for The Crags, once you’re free of the tunnels, the pathway has been marked by a subtle sign that the phrenics will understand. I’m afraid what that marking is will be a mystery you will need to solve yourselves. Keep to these signs and you will find the way.”

  The lack of a detailed description of the sign that would lead them from the maze was disconcerting. The fact that it was something only phrenics would understand, however was not unsurprising. Undoubtedly, subtle markings etched into rock would have faded over a millennium of exposure to the elements.

  “What of the land that borders The Crags?” Dav, who’d remained silent to this point, spoke.

  “The lands that border the southwestern shore of the Sunfall Lake and also include the eastern edges of The Crags have for generations been owned by a family sympathetic to our cause.” Irie explained.

  Of all the information that had been divulged during the meeting, this was the most shocking. There was a gasp from the others as the information rolled from the Councilwoman’s tongue.

  “It is through the assistance of this family, that we have been able to maintain the current level of information regarding the atrocities that have been occurring throughout the Kingdom,” Councilor Heild spoke up, entering the discussion. “The mystery of our source of knowledge I know is a surprise to all of you. You must understand, there was more risk divulging this to the whole of Vim. Coded messages, even the seed of that revolting, blighted rose, travelled to us on the wings of their specially trained falcons. Regretfully, more than five cycles have passed since we last received a message.”