Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3)

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Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3) Page 35

by C. J. Aaron


  Chapter 40

  Ryl and Andr had little time to wait before Kaep reemerged from behind the veil of leaves. She moved casually to meet them as they relaxed on the grass in the center of the clearing. Her head was held high, the undulating folds of her cape billowing gently behind her as she approached.

  A small smile rose unbidden on Ryl’s face as she made eye contact. The look that flashed between them was confusing. Her eyes looked conflicted. They looked morose.

  She looked scared.

  The expression that appeared had passed before Ryl's smile could fade. She smiled back, though the effort looked pained.

  "Welcome back," Andr interjected, his voice still coarse.

  She offered her hand, assisting the recovering mercenary to his feet. He wobbled slightly as he stood.

  "We'd best get back to the others," Ryl added softly as he rose from where he sat on the grass. Andr grunted and Kaep nodded her head subtly in reply. In unison, they all turned their gaze back to the great tree.

  A breeze rippled through the clearing. The light wind pushed the hair across Ryl's face, jostling his cloak as it passed. On its wings came an emotion.

  Hope.

  As the last tendril departed, a single vision erupted in Ryl's mind.

  The clearing in the forest was massive, as were the trees that were arranged in a ring around the interior. Pillars of light streamed down through the canopy nearly a hundred meters overhead. The floor was clean and looked well-worn from frequent use. Small patches of grass grew in places and a single, large fire pit lay dormant in the center.

  The root systems of the giant trees rose high above the ground. At the base of each a large darkened opening split the roots, offering access to the interior.

  Ryl needed no additional visual cues to understand the message contained within the unexpected image of the location.

  Familiarity rushed through his veins. He knew the area well. His body felt as though he’d walked those grounds countless times. He'd experienced the comfort of the spongy earth in the hollowed-out enclosures under each tree as he'd spent many a night slumbering under their roots.

  Along with the image, along with the recollection came a deluge of feelings. Ryl felt joy. He felt pain. He felt loss beyond comprehension.

  This was a site that had seen so much hope. Yet had suffered undeniable loss.

  It was from this stronghold that Taben with his phrenic army had struck out at the forces of the Horde that sought to besiege the world.

  It was from here they'd saved Damaris.

  It would be here that they'd save the tributes.

  The gasps from the others gathered at his side confirmed that the vision had sprung to life in their eyes as well.

  "What was that place?" Andr gasped.

  "That was the camp for the phrenics who stood with Taben to defend Damaris so many cycles ago," Ryl answered bluntly, though there was a reverence to his voice.

  "Tabenville is a destination well known to those who seek the tributes," Ryl grinned as he continued, “Let the army from Damaris come. They will find it hard to collect those they cannot locate.” Ryl looked back at the tree behind him, his gaze taking in the expanse of the clearing. The raw emotion poured from his body effortlessly, though he pushed the feeling outward to the Erlyn beyond. His sincere thanks rushed through the quiet woods.

  The leaves rustled in response.

  "Come. Let's return to the others," Ryl ordered. "We'll rest in Tabenville tonight. We move into the Erlyn on the morrow."

  Chapter 41

  The light of the day had waned by the time Ryl, Andr and Kaep reached Tabenville. Though the hour was getting late, the normally sleepy settlement was bursting at the seams with the added numbers. Likely, never in the history of the work camp, had so many been assembled together.

  Tributes—in a development that would have been considered beyond the bounds of possibility merely a week ago—shared the space with guards. The extrinsically opposite pair now coexisted in relative harmony. In only a matter of a few short days the bonds of trust had more than just been formed. The seeds of trust between them had not only been planted but watered in the blood of battle.

  Though still only a small percentage of those trained in the ways of war throughout the Kingdom, the guards with them had thrown a millennium of fallacy to the wind, acting on the side of morality. The tributes, for their part, understood the sacrifices the guards who stayed with them under the command of Captain Le'Dral and Lieutenant Moyan had made.

  They too were now outcasts.

  Traitors to the crown.

  Traitors to Damaris.

  They had been sentenced to death at the hands of those who they'd served with only days before.

  The return trek through the woods was a quiet affair. All had seemingly been lost in thought. Andr's strength had returned rapidly, and his need for support, whether through recovery or stubborn pride, had ended soon after they left the heart of the Erlyn.

  They were greeted warmly by the contingent of guard standing watch over the entrance to Tabenville. Dav stopped the party for a brief word, noting that nothing of import had occurred during their absence. His shift on guard was to end shortly, and Soldi would be taking his place with the fresh eyes of a new squad of guards.

  The fields lining either side of the hard-packed dirt path were eerily quiet and barren. Ryl had grown accustomed to nearly constant activity among the crops. It was still hard to believe that a little over a cycle earlier, he had been tending the fields with his own hands.

  The paddock alongside the stable had been hastily modified, with construction still underway to contain the influx of cavalry that now resided within its confines. Several guards still tended to the horses. Others, off duty, caught what slumber they could on the floor of the interior.

  Tents had sprung to life in the central square of Tabenville, providing a temporary respite from the pervasive mists. The storehouse and barracks were occupied by the guards resting before their shift was to begin as well as a score of tributes. The officer’s quarters, housing the majority of the injured and those tributes who had been rescued from the horrors of the facility, was thankfully quiet. Ryl knew that inside Mender Jeffers still labored tirelessly over his charges. His smile grew at the thought of Sarial standing beside him, caring for those in need of assistance.

  They were an unlikely pairing. Yet, one which brought him a considerable measure of joy.

  A group of guards stood alongside the entrance to the newly established infirmary inside the officer’s quarters. Ryl immediately recognized Le’Dral, Millis and the hulking frame of Moyan lingering before the gate.

  Without warning, his mind flashed back to his earlier trips to Tabenville. The hatred emanating from the pack of guards standing around the late sub-master Osir was toxic. It choked the air with a maleficence that paled even the all-encompassing mist from the nearby falls. He turned his head to the side, catching a quick glance of Andr.

  His tale could have ended there. His short and tortured life could have ended that night. The guard whom he’d never met prior to that afternoon had fished him from the dredges of the pool, whisking him to safety.

  So much had changed since then.

  They had been slaves to the Kingdom. Damaris’ cursed, yet coveted, resource.

  Now they were free.

  Far from being free from danger, yet free they were.

  Le’Dral hailed them as they approached. His voice was kind, and there was a sense of relief that was visible in the way he carried his body. He too had experienced reunion over the last few days. Close allies, once thought lost to the travesty of the Kingdom had revealed themselves. Millis and Moyan had not only survived, they’d returned at his time of greatest need.

  Kaep caught Ryl as they approached the captain.

  “I’ll see to Vox,” she stated quietly. “Then I’ll relieve Ramm’s watch over Elias.” From countless hours of training, he’d grown to understand the subtleties of he
r moods. The inflection of her words was cold in comparison to her norm. Though likely unnoticeable to most, since her interaction with the Erlyn, she carried herself with a gait that was anything but normal.

  Kaep hastened on without another word or waiting for a response.

  Ryl followed her with his eyes as her lithe figure retreated up the stairs to the officer’s quarters. He was confused by her newly reticent attitude.

  What had the Erlyn provided her behind the veil of leaves?

  Her single word answer had broached no further inquiries.

  “Understanding,” was all she had said.

  Le’Dral cleared his throat, breaking Ryl’s unintentional stare as the door to the officer’s quarters closed silently behind Kaep. A sly grin pulled up on the corners of his lips, though it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  “Will we see more assistance from the woods?" The captain posed the question that was likely on all their minds.

  Ryl forced a small smile as he responded.

  "I'm afraid we've likely saw the bulk of what the woods can provide," Ryl’s voice was somber, but resolute as he responded. Unsurprisingly, he saw the shoulders of the three officers standing before him slump slightly at his admission.

  They were likely some of the most experienced and disciplined military minds in the entirety of Damaris. They all understood the severity of their position. While the narrow entrance to Tabenville provided the best defensive position within The Stocks, the disparity in their numbers bordered on hopeless. They stood less than one hundred trained soldiers against the entire force of the Kingdom. Their defense would be futile if the siege stretched out for long.

  The tributes would need to begin their regimen of remedy soon. Even with the increased rate of recovery, it would be likely two weeks before they were hale enough to move with any great speed.

  "Though feats like this morning may be out of her reach, her assistance will still remain," Ryl announced to their obvious confusion.

  "The Erlyn has granted us access to areas that have not been viewed by living eyes in a millennium," he continued. As he spoke, he pushed out a subtle wave of encouragement, flavoring his words with added hope. "It was within the confines of this forest stronghold that Taben the Defender launched his attacks on the demon Horde that threatened the end of Damaris."

  There was a collective gasp from Le'Dral and his officers.

  "The day's drawn late and all are exhausted," Ryl added. "At first light, we move into the Erlyn."

  The discussions were short but succinct, the planning brief yet furtive. Ryl soon found himself wandering the familiar square of Tabenville, cataloguing the sleepy village he'd come to know well. He paused briefly to connect momentarily with tributes, the family he'd missed so dearly. He did his best to assure them of the path that was to come. To instill hope into minds that had been starved of the slightest glimmer for cycles.

  It wasn't long before the call of sleep became too much to bear.

  Chapter 42

  Ryl woke with a start. Even with the incessant mist from the falls, he'd chosen to sleep outside; a small scrap of fabric draped overhead provided little relief from the swirling moisture. Their combined numbers were close to five hundred souls, far too large a group to fit comfortably within the cramped confines of the sleepy settlement.

  A roaring fire had been built in the center of the square, and the dampness of the air and the roar of the falls was a strange comfort to his stressed mind. They'd survived the journey from Vim. They'd rescued the comatose shells of the tributes from the facility, ending the reign of at least one of the dreaded production facilities. They had overthrown the Harvest and liberated The Stocks. Although their status was still tenuous, the tributes were now free. An alliance of sorts had been formed in their shared blood with those who had recently served as their guards.

  The harrowing fifty-mile trip to Tabenville was complete. They had accomplished much in such a short period of time, yet there was still a daunting amount that remained incomplete. The glimmering of a lingering discomfort crept into the back of his mind.

  Something felt off. There was an unnatural, unnerving feeling in the air. The call from within his blood to relocate to the wooded confines of the Erlyn was intense. He felt it from inside his body.

  He was worried. The woods that had ever been the pillar of strength had been so weak when they'd last left the shadows of her boughs. He noted a faint disconcerting pull toward her, one that tugged at the periphery of his senses.

  Ryl rose quickly, surveying the area with his eyes. He saw the sleeping figures of those gathered around the waning flames of the fire. The orange-yellow glow cast an ominous ring of light on the damp and misty area. The sky overhead was lit with the first evidence of the brightening moments of pre-dawn. He moved quietly through the square, heading south on the road toward the edge of the Erlyn. To his side, the officer’s quarters, barracks and storeroom were quiet, though a group of guards conversed in hushed voices on the steps outside.

  In the distance, he heard the nickering of horses rise from within their hastily constructed corral. A few of the beasts moved about, agitated at their crowded confines. A pair of guards moved purposefully to settle the animals.

  Against the dark line of the forest a pair of torches burned, illuminating the silhouettes of the contingent of sentries standing watch over the road.

  The call from the Erlyn grew steadily as he approached. Her voice that had been a whisper in the distance of the square rose steadily. She was crying out, though her voice was weak.

  There was panic. There was urgency.

  There was alarm.

  Without warning, the torches bordering the woods extinguished as if snuffed out by unseen hands. There was a muted, yet unmistakable cry, ending in a wet gurgle.

  Ryl stopped abruptly; his mindsight flashed to view unbeckoned. The picture it painted was vivid.

  It was terrifying.

  A mass of darkness poured out from the mouth of the Erlyn. The tingling in his left arm began rising to a rampant pitch. His momentary view was enough to register the peril of their situation. A mass of Lei Guard approached silently from the woods. How had they reached them so quickly?

  The first waves of their hatred assaulted him, nearly choking the warning that streamed from his mouth. Sounds of commotion rose from the village behind as his alarm disrupted the slumber of the settlement. The din of the agitated horses in the corral increased as more of the mounts struggled under the onslaught of fear.

  Ahead he could now see the shapes, black masses against the trees of the forest. The limp form of a body dropped from the hands of a shadowed attacker.

  From the mouth of the woods, they oozed across the land like a blackened stain. At least fifty cloaked warriors stalked purposefully from the trees. Ryl felt the tingling blossom to a constant throb as they moved toward him.

  There were too many of them.

  This would be a slaughter.

  The familiar heat surged through his veins along with an overwhelming urge to fight. The sensation tore at him, luring his body toward the woods. His head cried out against the desire, though his heart refused to accept the fate that would befall those who stood against the black warriors of the Lei Guard. The attackers were once tributes after all.

  Ryl closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of fear slammed into him. Hopelessness followed closely behind.

  In the gloom of the moments before morning, his left arm glowed with a dull golden light. He swiped it at the rolling waves of hopelessness and despair that assaulted him, and the arm cut through them like the prow of a ship through water.

  The pull from the alexen within his blood and throbbing from his left arm were too much to bear. With a growl, he gave in to the power inside him. The world around him slammed to a stop. The commotion of the village froze. Only the steady but slowed sounds of footsteps echoed from three behind him. The voices that accompanied them were familiar. They were phrenic.

&n
bsp; With a sigh, Ryl strode onward toward the incoming wall of death. His confident stride showed no hitch or hesitation. Miniscule droplets of moisture from the falls hung in the air. He cut through them, leaving a temporary void of dry air in their wake. Around his right arm the wind began to swell. The glow of the sun tattooed over the flesh of his left arm increased.

  The Lei Guard continued forward, forming into a concave wall that stretched out around him. His left arm burned with power, the light intensifying with every step. Every pace forward revealed more details; their wicked, curved swords still hung in their sheathes, their shields were still slung over their backs. Behind them, the motionless bodies of the sentries littered the path.

  The sight stoked the fire that raged through his veins.

  Ryl raised his left hand to the sky; a ball of light swelled in his palm. What started as a pinpoint of light grew larger by the moment. The throbbing in his arm increased to a frantic pitch. He experienced the energy, the power, the alexen coursing through his veins into his arm. The sensation was as unique as it was alarming, as if the power was pulling from the entirety of his body, focusing on his arm alone. In its wake, he was left with a chilling emptiness.

  Over the thrumming of his own power, he caught the lingering hints of sensation from the woods just beyond his reach. The Erlyn screamed in frenzied warning. The trees bordering the forest's edge shuddered. Their branches crashed together with a thunderous rumble. Leaves fell from the boughs above like rain, swirling as they got caught in the desperate breath of wind that blew from her midst.

  The Erlyn was scared.

  She was scared for him.

  Her screams and pleas were nothing but a whisper. The roar of the power massing in his left hand drowned out all other sounds. The power had consumed Ryl. His hazy view of reality fractured.

  He was present in the fields before Tabenville, his light boots sinking slightly into the soft mud of the neglected fields. The hood of his cloak was down. Carried by the wind from the forest, his hair whipped against his face, and his cloak snapped out behind him.

 

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