Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3)

by C. J. Aaron

  Ryl felt the fire course through his veins. His blood boiled with anger. Le’Dral would be given a rightful choice in deciding his own fate. The unfiltered emotion flooded out of him with a force he hadn’t expected.

  Hope.

  Never lose hope.

  The captain staggered back a step. Ryl inched silently forward, and sliding the hood back slightly on his head.

  “There is no hope here,” Le'Dral cursed under his breath as he worked to undo the buttons on his uniform shirt.

  The captain’s hands stopped abruptly; his head slowly lifted. Le’Dral’s eyes bulged as he finally marked the appearance of the shadowed figure standing before him. His face went white and his jaw fell open as the recognition struck him.

  “Impossible,” he gasped.

  Ryl grinned as he replied.

  “What’s wrong, Captain?” Ryl asked softly. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  The normally stoic commander stumbled carelessly, falling backward into his chair. His unblinking eyes viewed Ryl with a mixture of shock and fear.

  “What are you?” he stammered.

  Ryl grinned at the question.

  “I’ve been asked that more times than I care to remember,” he whispered. “For now, know that I am nothing but a messenger.”

  The captain looked confused at the statement, yet at the same time infinitely curious. He regained his composure quickly, and his shoulders rolled back slightly. His face flushed with the natural color that had blanched when he had first noted Ryl's appearance.

  “A messenger? What message do you herald from behind closed doors in the still of the night?” Le’Dral quizzed.

  “The tidings for most will be different. For you, the message will be a warning,” Ryl responded.

  He watched Captain Le’Dral tense at the charge. The man’s hand slid slowly down from his lap, likely seeking a weapon secreted below his desk.

  “Fear not, captain, for you I hold no ill will,” Ryl said flooding him with a sensation of calm. “The same cannot be said for others within the city limits. From what I understand, your propensity for compassion when others seek nothing but hatred … has made you many enemies.”

  The captain snorted out a half-laugh, half-cough.

  “I’m the Captain of the Guard. I’ve had enemies since I took this post,” Le’Dral replied matter-of-factly with a hint of annoyance to his voice.

  “That I’m sure, Le’Dral,” Ryl agreed. “Their patience has expired. They’re coming for you now. They won’t stop until they see you dead.”

  Le’Dral leaned forward, resting his arms on the table in front of him.

  “Who’s coming?” he asked curiously. “What do you base this knowledge on?”

  “From those who were to do the killing,” Ryl replied bluntly. “They came for Cavlin.”

  The captain jumped to his feet. The chair behind him tilted backward, balancing precariously for a moment before toppling to the ground.

  "Tell me, is he dead?” the captain demanded. His hands balled into fists. His knuckles faded to white from the force as he squeezed them together.

  “No—though it was close, he still lives,” Ryl stated. “He's in the company of a mender. He'll be delivered to you before dawn.”

  The captain visibly relaxed at the statement. His eyes squinted slightly as he peered at Ryl.

  “The killings last night in the East Ward. Were those you?” Le'Dral asked.

  “All but one,” Ryl admitted. Le'Dral looked at him suspiciously.

  “Whether you believe me or not, Cavlin will confirm the truth,” Ryl grumbled.

  The captain shook his head in disbelief, his hands held out in front of him in a placating gesture.

  “Forgive me, Ryl. Regardless of all else, your appearance alone is shocking,” Le'Dral admitted. “How is it that you are here? They took you. You died at sea.”

  Ryl grinned, a devious smile spread across his face.

  “The sea was merciful. Though that I'm afraid is a story for another time, perhaps,” Ryl answered cryptically.

  Ryl took a step forward, moving out of the shadows further into the ring of light from the fading lantern. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the edge of Le'Dral's desk.

  “Time is running out. Your time is running out, my friend. As I said, the patience of those who've sought your doom has expired,” Ryl warned, though his tone softened. “You showed kindness when others sought pain. From what I hear, you've been true to your word and have treated the tributes with respect, and for that you have my eternal gratitude.”

  Ryl raised himself to his full height, taking a step back away from the desk. He let a gentle wind build around his right arm.

  “Be wary of those you don't know and trust,” Ryl whispered. “Soon you will be called upon to make a choice the likes of which Damaris has never seen. Understand that either decision could rightly spell your death—yet define your life.”

  The captain peered at him, his head tilting slightly to the side. Le'Dral opened his mouth to speak.

  Ryl let free the speed that flowed from his veins. The captain’s mouth stood frozen open. With a quick flick of his wrist he released a short, focused gust of wind into the flickering flame of the lantern.

  The room was plunged into darkness.

  With a single step, Ryl was at the window. It was only a moment before he'd opened the panels, vaulting up onto the sill. The courtyard was still; no patrols disturbed its silent rest. He leapt down, rolling as his body impacted the grass.

  His momentum carried him toward the bench where he'd left his second cloak. He grabbed the tattered garment as he passed, using a rapid downward blast of wind to propel him to the top of the wall. Within an instant he melted into the shadows of the alley beyond.

  Ryl let time flash back to normal as he threw on his second cloak. A moment later, the face of Captain Le'Dral thrust out the window to his office searching the area outside. The wide-eyed expression on the captain's face was the last thing he saw as he turned away.

  “See you in the morning, Captain,” Ryl whispered.

  Chapter 21

  The narrow, poorly maintained avenues between the downtrodden buildings of the East Ward were silent as Ryl and Andr slipped quietly from the city. The pair of guards manning the gate paid them no mind as they rode past, disappearing into the night.

  The moon above was nearly full though the sky above was clouded. The light, though diffused through the cover, illuminated the land in a soft glow. After his meeting with Captain Le’Dral, Ryl had returned to the hidden room behind the tavern. He was able to catch a few hours of sleep before they crept from the city, destined to meet the phrenics, tributes and the rest of their companions.

  Their path from the East Ward had followed a roundabout course, passing by the mender’s private clinic. Ryl was relieved to see a small covered wagon waiting in the shadows off to the side of his house. Both the mender and Breila had been true to their words; Cavlin would be delivered to the barracks before dawn.

  Ryl’s mind was now focused elsewhere. Though he had managed only a few short hours of sleep, the brief rest had left him feeling rejuvenated. The time had finally come. They would soon march on The Stocks.

  His promise to free the tributes would come true, or they’d die trying.

  They urged their mounts into a steady canter as they merged with the main eastern road leading from the city. As within the limits of Cadsae Proper, Ryl was diligent in his scanning of the surrounding area. He’d seen no sign of the devilish black stains of the Lei Guard. The handful of occasions that he was able to catch the golden glow from the tributes had left him yearning for more. He longed for the welcome that close proximity would bring.

  Soon enough, he kept telling himself.

  Owing to the hour, the road was deserted. Their only company was the quiet chirping of insects and the distant splash of the sea upon the shore. A gentle breeze blew off the water, carrying with it a hint of brine.
<
br />   They made quick work of the short miles under the dim light of the moon. Reaching the intersection with the northerly road, they slowed their horses to a walk, though they moved with an alert eagerness that was impossible to disguise. They should be nearing their companions shortly. Every passing footstep that failed to show signs of their presence was a cause for concern.

  The trepidation built as they marched further north. Every step moved them farther from Cadsae Proper. Minute stretched past insufferable minute. Ryl continued searching the area with incessant persistence.

  His sense of relief was profound when he first marked the telltale glow of the phrenics to the north. He released out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in with an audible sigh.

  “They’re just ahead,” he announced quietly to Andr. The mercenary nodded as he scrutinized the moonlit area for any sign of motion.

  Ryl smiled as a wave of relief washed over him. The force of it was surprising, strong enough to unsettle their mounts. The horses snorted, stomping their feet in protest. It was a matter of a few moments before they regained full control of the spooked beasts.

  Ahead to their left, just off the side of the path, a lone pinpoint of light flashed to life. They maneuvered their horses toward it as another pair of torches took to flame, illuminating the caravan that lay waiting along the road.

  The two wagons were parked in a line several meters off the road against the edge of a small stand of trees. Aldren’s wagon was in the lead. The black wagon was stopped a few meters from its rear. From both sides of the carriages, black cloaked figures materialized from the dark, approaching Ryl and Andr. Their sudden appearance sparked an instant of fear. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andr tense as well. Even though the disguises were of their own construction and the figures underneath their friends, the sight was still disconcerting.

  The familiar sensation of welcome that he’d grown so accustomed to feeling in the presence of the other phrenics was a comfort that salved any tension from his body.

  Ryl jumped down with ease, greeting his friends warmly. Though they’d only been separated a matter of days, their lives had been in a nearly constant state of turbulence. He was eager and optimistic to find that they had had an easier run.

  “Welcome back,” Ramm’s voice boomed through the night. “We were beginning to worry.”

  Ryl smiled back at the group assembled before him. Nielix stepped forward, collecting the reins of their horses, leading them quickly to the small stream that ran along the edge of the grove. Lined up before him were nearly the entirety of their group, save for Vox, who stood guard at the rear of Aldren’s wagon. His eyes never strayed from his recovering charges within for long. Also not present were the refugee tribute Faya and her father Rolan.

  “I’m sorry to worry you. Our city visit turned out to be a far more adventurous undertaking that we could have anticipated,” Ryl announced. “I hope the road for you was quiet.”

  “Aye, that it was,” Kaep answered for the group. “Though I’m afraid we haven’t much time for discussion. We still have yet to clear the tributes from Aldren’s wagon; the ride for them will be cramped.”

  Ryl shook his head remorsefully as he thought of the immediate road ahead for the tributes. Though the journey was thankfully short, the overly crowded quarters would be uncomfortable. However, judging from the lives they’d been leading and the futures they’d been assured, the next several hours of close quarters discomfort would be over soon.

  “Have there been any improvements with the tributes?” Ryl asked.

  “Their progress has been encouraging,” Kaep said with a smile. The black cloak draped over her usual wear looked wrong on her, as if the dark fabric was blocking the glow he'd grown to know.

  “All, including your friend, infrequently open their eyes, though none yet speak coherently,” she continued. “Some sit even now.”

  Ryl was exhilarated by the statement. Their lives still hung precariously in the balance. None could truly know or understand their recovery process; what they'd been through and the struggles they yet faced. The glimmer of hope that he had prior to leaving had now blossomed. Their improvements were an encouraging sign. He hoped their progress would accelerate further once they were in the capable hands of Mender Jeffers.

  In a matter of hours, they’d know the truth.

  “I'll keep the tales of Cadsae Proper brief,” Ryl said. “It’s safe to say that we found a city on the verge. The rift between those who see the tributes as a threat, the scourge of society, and those who see a need for compassion has already spilled over into isolated violence. Orders have been issued for the assassination of the Captain of the Guard and his subordinates. We interrupted one of those plots.”

  Ramm coughed as he suppressed a laugh.

  “I thought we told you to stay out of trouble,” the giant phrenic offered with a smile.

  “Trouble seems to have an uncanny knack of finding him, I'm afraid,” Andr added.

  Ryl’s emotion swelled at the statement. Luck had smiled on them. Again. They’d found themselves in the unique position to prevent an act of evil from robbing the Kingdom of a friend. One whose sentiments and loyalties had been made known.

  “I could not sit idly by while one of the only men who showed respect to me, to the tributes, was murdered,” Ryl added. The words tumbled from his mouth with a force dramatically heavier than he anticipated. He took a deep, steadying breath before continuing.

  “Had we not stepped in when we did, it’s likely that we never would have known of the plot to murder the captain as well,” Ryl continued, his voice firm, yet controlled. “The captain I know is a good man. He commands the respect and loyalty of the guard. If we are to succeed this morning with little bloodshed, it will likely be with his support.”

  “And if he doesn’t choose to support your plan?” Nielix added as he returned from watering the horses.

  Ryl was unsurprised by the challenge from the Vigil, though it was the tone of the man’s voice that surprised him. Whereas in the past, their relationship had been charged with the man’s irrational hatred, the Vigil’s words were now spoken with respect. There was no indication of the overpowering animosity that had clouded his every syllable only a matter of days earlier. He was pleased by the change, yet a hole that had been opened in his heart throbbed as his thoughts brought back the memory.

  If only the change of heart hadn’t come at the cost of a friend.

  “Without specifics, I made the captain aware that a change was coming,” Ryl added. “I do not believe that he will stand between us and that which we seek. I do not seek his death over any others, yet, he’s aware of the cost his decisions may reap.”

  Around the gathered group, heads nodded in agreement. Ryl and Andr quickly recounted the remaining details of their journey before they rapidly began the undertaking of moving the tributes from the back of Aldren’s wagon. Rolan was the first to exit the wagon, carrying the sleeping body of Faya in his arms.

  Ryl followed alongside Aldren as he tied open the back flap of the wagon. The merchant had brought his lantern, hanging it from the peg that protruded from the rear wall. The wash of light illuminated a sight that made Ryl’s heart skip a beat. The tributes had filled out noticeably in the days since he’d last seen them. Though they remained sickeningly emaciated, the tightened skin that stretched across their bones was visibly less taut. Even in the dim light, their complexions appeared healthier. They looked less like ghosts and more like humans.

  The most shocking sight, however, was that two of the five in Aldren’s wagon now sat; their backs leaning against the rear wall. Their eyes were closed lightly, though their lids fluttered, signaling the dreams, or nightmares ongoing within the confines of their tortured minds. Ryl hoped their dreams were pleasant. He’d experienced firsthand the nightmares. The potent terror was all too familiar. What horrors plagued their addled minds after so many cycles of intense abuse?

  With care, the
tributes were hoisted one at a time, carried delicately into the black wagon. Inside, the others had already been arranged into a tight configuration starting at the back of the wagon. Of the second group, three now slumped against the interior wall. A layer of blankets had been fashioned into thin cushions to help prevent them from being jostled too forcefully should the road ahead be overly rough.

  Several of the tributes had opened their eyes in the process of moving them. Their eyes were glassy, staring out into the night with unfocused gazes. Ryl had quietly attempted conversation with the shell of the tribute he carried in his arms. The weight of the body cradled against him was startlingly light and his skin felt cool to the touch. The man’s eyes traveled in a seemingly random arc, pausing for an instant as his vision unintentionally fell on him. His brown eyes were clouded and unfocused. Ryl resisted the urge to look over his shoulder as the tribute seemed to be focused on something behind him, penetrating through his body as if he was transparent. The man offered no further acknowledging his presence or questions.

  The sight, though haunting, was nonetheless encouraging.

  Elias was one of the last to be moved. Ryl was adamant that he carry his friend between wagons. His eyes had opened as Ryl moved to hoist him into the black carriage. A distinct shudder traveled through the entirety of his body. In that instant, Elias’ eyes focused on Ryl with a pleading look. The pain in his expression chilled Ryl to the core. It was a look that had no doubt been on many of their faces at one point in time as they made their fateful trip in the accursed black wagon.

  “Rest easy, Elias,” Ryl whispered, pouring a wave of comfort over his friend as he spoke. “Though the carriage is black, this journey will be to freedom. I’ll be by your side the whole time, my friend.”

  Whether it was the words, or the emotion, Elias’s body relaxed as Ryl finished. With assistance, he rested his friend against the side wall, propped against another of the seated tributes. It was heart-wrenching to see his friend bound; to have to secure him to one of the metal rings that was fixed to the carriage’s wall. From this point, the journey to The Stocks would require a different configuration of their companions.