Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2) Page 2

  Andr broke the stillness of the moment.

  “We can discuss this later,” he said. “We'll be out of light soon. Come.”

  Chapter 2

  The pair hurried down from the peak of the small ridge into the stunted grove at its base. The trees twisted and turned in random directions as they snaked their way to nowhere in particular. Their gnarled branches sprouted thin sprigs covered in sharp, withered looking, rust colored miniature leaves. The modest copse encompassed an area perhaps fifty meters in diameter.

  Andr took the lead as they cautiously entered the grove. The interior was still, the snaking branches obstructing the lines of sight through the trees. Ryl jumped as the mercenary bellowed an abrupt laugh.

  “What is it?” Ryl asked, startled by the sudden reaction from the guard.

  “See for yourself,” Andr said grinning, pointing toward the ground ahead.

  Along the edge of the near vertical incline of the ridge, a spring bubbled up from the ground. The water pulsed out from under the rock before it trickled downhill, collecting in a small, round divot in the earth. The tiny pool was nothing more than a small puddle, the water tinted by the reddish soil underneath.

  “Well, that solves one problem,” Ryl added. “Do you think it's safe to drink?”

  Andr kneeled before the pool, cupping his hands together, collecting a sample of the clear liquid. He smelled the water before raising it to his lips for a sip. He rocked back on his heels as he swished it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

  “It’s surprisingly cold,” he said. “Tastes clean. We should be fine to fill up here.”

  He stood, tossing his water skin to Ryl.

  “Fill these up then look along the ridgeline for any small caves we can use as a shelter,” Andr ordered. “I'd rather not chance the night out in the open if we can help it. I'll set some traps and see if we can catch us some food.”

  Ryl wasted no time filling their empty water skins, taking several extra swigs from the clear spring. Tucking the refilled skins into his pack he made his way along the uneven face of the ridge in search of shelter. Meters from its end, Ryl stumbled across what they were looking for.

  A large, natural indent was worn into the base of the ridge. The opening was disguised by a boulder that had separated from the hillside above. The massive stone blocked he majority of the hole, leaving a small natural entrance. Through the opening, Ryl could see the entirety of the void. It would be a tight squeeze for the pair, but it would protect them from the elements. They knew naught of what other surprises nightfall in the Outlands would bring.

  With shelter and water ensured, Ryl tasked himself with the gathering of kindling and firewood. He was returning from scrounging up his collection when Andr arrived, a triumphant smile spread across the guard’s face. In his hand was a small clump of dirty plants.

  “It won’t hold a candle to Gencep’s fare, but at least we won’t go hungry tonight,” Andr said sarcastically.

  Ryl thought back to the single meal he’d shared with Lord Eligar and Mender Gencep. Even the finest meal he’d tasted in his relatively short life couldn’t compare to the culinary wonder that the mender had provided.

  “Are those carrots?” Ryl asked skeptically, looking at the plants in Andr’s hand.

  “Aye, I believe they are,” he replied.

  “How do you know so much about the plants here?” Ryl quizzed.

  “Honestly, I don’t,” Andr answered. “Thank you for gathering firewood, by the way, well done.”

  Andr gave Ryl a gracious smile before sitting down, arranging the small sticks into a crude pyramid.

  “I’ve spent nearly as many cycles as you’ve been alive in places where surviving off the land was a necessity,” he explained. “You learn a thing of two about what you can and can’t eat in a bind. The stems aren’t the right color, but the leaves are the right shape. Guess we’ll find out if they’re safe soon enough.”

  Andr ended the last statement with a chuckle.

  “Nice hole you found us,” he said as he swiveled his head, scanning the modest earthen interior of the cave.

  “Thank you,” Ryl answered automatically. “I never thought the life of a guard was that rough.”

  Andr laughed again.

  “Who said anything about being a guard the whole time,” Andr replied, a sly grin grew across his face as he looked up from the mounting pile of twigs and tinder. “I’ve only been in the service of the guard for the last four cycles or so. I spent nearly every moment prior to that as a mercenary.”

  Knowledge of the world beyond the palisades had been pitifully lacking and rarely up to date in The Stocks. The tributes pieced together what information they could by eavesdropping on the conversations of the guards. Ryl thought back to the rumors he’d heard over the cycles. Never once was there mention of any armed conflict.

  “Hasn’t the kingdom been at peace for over a thousand cycles?” Ryl asked, genuinely curious about the world that had carried on outside the walls.

  Andr flashed him a sympathetic smile.

  “I forget that you didn’t have the privilege of the information we were privy to. I’m sorry, Ryl,” Andr’s voice carried an unmistakable air of honesty. “To answer your question, the Kingdom of Damaris has been at peace for more than a millennium. The nobles and the lords, on the other hand, are in a constant state of flux.”

  Andr paused, striking his flint into the small pile of tinder he’d prepared. With practiced precision, the spark landed squarely among the fibers of wood he'd arranged, taking hold almost immediately. He gently coaxed the ember to life and within moments a small fire crackled away inside their shelter.

  “You see Ryl, while the kingdom may be at peace, the nobility, the Lords, and the Houses are constantly vying for land and influence,” Andr explained. “Not a day goes by where the lust for more power fails to erupt into violence. Destruction of another Lord’s property, a minor skirmish, a land grab, kidnapping, you name it. All’s fair in their never-ending quest for power.”

  The look of disgust must have been all too evident on Ryl’s face.

  “Like I told you before, I’m no saint, Ryl,” Andr admitted sincerely. “There’s a flip side to the unchecked aggression though. Those under assault need defending. The kidnapped need rescuing. Those whose properties were stolen or destroyed demand revenge. Now those were the jobs that paid and paid well. The riskier the job, the better the pay. I enjoyed what I did, but I had a bad habit of picking the worst.”

  “If the pay was so good and you enjoyed it so much, why did you quit and join the guard?” Ryl asked.

  A strange look spread across Andr’s normally impassive face, one that mixed sadness with an anger that burned white hot. As quickly as it had come, the look passed. Andr stirred the fire for a moment before answering.

  “After so long doing it, the novelty wears off I guess,” the mercenary stated. “In a way, I was just as much a slave to the thirst for power as the nobles, only mine came from the rush of the battle. It was time for a change in pace.”

  Ryl had the distinct feeling that Andr had omitted information from his story. He chose not to press the subject further with his new friend.

  “How did you end up serving in The Stocks then?” Ryl asked cautiously.

  The Stocks were not a location a guard willingly opted to serve. Those chosen to patrol the interior did so as a punishment for the various infractions or crimes they’d committed on the outside. Andr's eyes wandered out of the small cave, viewing the stillness of the grove with watchful eyes.

  “I may have voiced my discontent with some of those who considered themselves to be my betters,” Andr smirked. “Earned me an extended stay in The Stocks. Lucky for you, I might add.”

  Ryl smiled back at the comment. He was eternally grateful that his path and Andr's had collided. Whether it was fate, luck or mere coincidence, without Andr, he would have died. The thought raised another question in Ryl's mind.


  “Andr, why did you help me on the road and then again on the pier in Tabenville?” he asked meekly.

  Andr paused his absent-minded stirring of the fire, pivoting to look Ryl in the eyes. His expression carried an unexpected intensity that burned into him.

  “There were multiple reasons, Ryl,” Andr grumbled with an unexpected force. “The foremost being the system of tributes is wrong. How many tributes in The Stocks are nothing more than children?”

  He tossed the stick he'd been using to stir the fire into the flames. A small plume of sparks floated to the ceiling of the small shelter.

  “I've done things I'm not proud of, skirted a fine line between morality and depravity far too often,” Andr admitted. “But even I have my limits.”

  Chapter 3

  After finishing their meager meal of carrots, Ryl accompanied Andr to check on the simple traps he'd set around the small pool of water. The light of the day was fading rapidly, and they were hesitant to remain outside after darkness descended upon the Outlands. Small game had crossed their path throughout the day. Ryl clung to the hope in Andr’s cautious optimism that the traps would provide them with fresh meat. The mercenary pointed out the telltale tracks of a hare in the soft soil surrounding the pool.

  Andr had set up two simple deadfall traps in a narrow corridor following the small game trails leading away from the water. Neither had sat long, and both remained unsurprisingly empty. Andr hastily instructed Ryl in the basics of setting up the traps, promising to elaborate on the morrow.

  With the remaining light nearly gone, Ryl collected as much wood and tinder as he could scrounge up for their fire. Andr used his sword to hack off several of the smaller leafy low-hanging branches.

  “What are those for?” Ryl asked curiously.

  “It will be crude, yet we’ll use these to make a door or sorts,” Andr replied.

  Andr’s patience was admirable. Though their conversations had been short, Ryl had bombarded the mercenary with a veritable river of questions that flowed from his mouth. The seasoned soldier graciously shared his lessons, teaching with a patient understanding, adding a drop to the empty bucket that summarized Ryl’s real world education.

  Reaching their enclosure, Andr weaved the twisted branches into a single loose sheet with deft precision. He leaned the flimsy panel over the opening to their enclosure. Aside from the muted glow from their small fire, their presence would be hidden from view.

  “You should get rest,” Andr said after taking a step back to inspect the hastily constructed cover to their shelter. “We’ll sleep in shifts. I'll take first watch.”

  He slid the thin wall of branches to the side. As Ryl passed by, Andr patted him encouragingly on the back. The mercenary followed him inside, repositioning the screen behind him.

  The toils of the last several days had left Ryl exhausted. His body ached from the abuse it had taken during the stormy retreat from Lord Eligar's frigate. His legs burned from exertion as Andr had maintained a steady pace throughout the day. They traveled fast over the clear terrain and labored to make headway through the unavoidable thorny brush that covered so much of the foreign landscape.

  Ryl lay his head on his small pack, wrapping his phrenic cloak tightly around his body. He was eager for the opportunity to sleep. The light outside had faded leaving only the flickering of their fire.

  “Sleep well, my friend,” Andr whispered from his position near the entrance. He’d turned his head slightly toward Ryl though his vision remained trained outside, scanning for any sign of movement.

  The night was devoid of noise. Aside from occasional quiet crackle from the fire and Andr's steady breathing, there was no sound from outside their shelter. No chirping of insects, no wind rustling through the trees, only silence.

  Ryl had walked as a free man for a day. He’d nearly lost sense of the momentousness of the occasion. The strenuous nature of their current course along with the burden that had landed squarely on his shoulders dampened his enthusiasm. He’d also yet to shake the ever-present sensation of being watched. The residual effect of the constant surveillance that accompanied nearly every moment of his previous life inside The Stocks haunted him still. In time he hoped the feeling would fade.

  He closed his eyes to rest, inhaling a deep, calming breath. The pent-up tension from the day’s trek flowed out with the air from his lungs. Ryl peered into the darkness with his phrenic mindsight. A pinpoint of black streaked across the picture in his mind. Unlike the telltale, glowing sign of the phrenics or tributes, the void that appeared was there one moment then gone the next. Ryl focused, searching farther and farther, yet the phenomenon never repeated.

  For a moment, his heart thundered in his chest as he strained his ears listening for any sound from the night beyond. As the time passed, his heart rate slowed; all remained still outside their earthen cavern. He chalked the vision up to an effect of his extreme exhaustion.

  Ryl rolled to his side, quickly falling asleep.

  A gentle shake of his leg woke Ryl from a dreamless slumber. The mercenary greeted him, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

  “It's your watch now,” Andr said quietly.

  Ryl stretched as he rose sluggishly, moving to take up the position Andr had just vacated.

  “Stay inside the cave. Do not leave without me,” Andr warned Ryl. “It's been silent all night, and that's what concerns me. Never spent a night outside that's this quiet. We've seen enough small game throughout the day, yet not a single hint of anything larger. Either there's nothing here, or it stays well hidden.”

  Andr unbundled this sword and sheath, handing them to Ryl. In all his cycles, he'd never laid a hand upon a sword. He flinched as the memories from his childhood assaulted his senses.

  He remembered the valiant battles he'd waged against the trees bordering his family's small home. The knock of wood against wood rang in his ears. His hands stung as the vibration from the impacts of his wooden sword against the trunks radiated up his arms.

  He remembered walking through the market square with his father. Although his father had never entertained his pleading, Ryl had always wanted to see the swords; their blades polished to a brilliant shine, displayed for all to see—a most enticing lure for young, impressionable boys.

  “You've never held a sword before, have you?” Andr asked intuitively. “Can't see the guard letting you train with steel in The Stocks!”

  Andr pulled the weapon from its sheet with an audible ring. He turned the blade over in his hands instinctively, scanning the surface for any blemishes or chips as if inspecting it for the first time.

  “Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you the basics,” Andr proclaimed. “For tonight, just keep the pointy end away from either of us. If anything moves, wake me before you need to use it.”

  Andr laid down in the space Ryl had just left. It wasn't long before the steady, rhythmic breaths told Ryl that the mercenary was asleep. Ryl peered through the gap between their makeshift door and the rock wall beside him. The sky was clear; the light from the moon and stars illuminated the sparse grove before him in a pale orange glow.

  In his mind, lurking behind every gnarled tree was a monster. Creeping within every shadow an unknown terror waited for him to drop his guard. The sensation of unseen eyes watching him made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

  He searched for any sign of the black void he thought he’d tracked earlier. There was no movement. The grove outside remained still and eerily silent.

  Ryl lost track of time as he scanned the trees, watching and listening for signs of motion. The thunder of his apprehensive heartbeat and the sound of their breathing were the only noise to break the quiet of the night.

  Andr rolled over before sitting up, stretching as he made his way to Ryl’s side.

  “Did I miss anything?” he asked rhetorically.

  “Not a thing,” Ryl yawned. “Not once did a single sound break the silence. It's not normal. It feels wrong.”

 
“Aye, Ryl. It isn't right,” Andr agreed in a whisper. “There's something wholly off with this land.”

  The mercenary collected the sword from Ryl, strapping it naturally to his hip. He surveyed the quiet grove for a moment, his watchful eyes taking in every detail. The slightest hint of color was beginning to lighten the sky far off to the east.

  “Rest again while you can, I'll take it from here. Great work tonight, Ryl,” Andr said appreciatively before continuing his earlier train of thought. “Count quiet nights like this as a bonus. I assure you; it won’t always be this easy.”

  Andr took up his seat by the door, his eyes returning to their diligent patrol of the grove beyond.

  “You can’t let complacency ruin your options when something happens. It’s how you prepare that makes the difference,” Andr explained. “It takes more effort to stay focused on nights when the world is quiet than in the thick of action.”

  Ryl nodded his head in agreement before laying again by the remains of the fire. His mind continued its questioning. What was that black shape that had flashed in his mindsight? Was there something out there, or was it a figment of his imagination? Could the side effects from the lack of treatment already be running their course?

  He cringed at the prospects.

  Only time would tell.

  Chapter 4

  Although Andr had let him sleep, Ryl still woke early as he’d grown accustomed to doing. The habit, conditioned throughout his cycles in The Stocks, would be a tough one to break.

  With high hopes, they checked the small traps. Their disappointment was palpable as both were empty. Pulling all the carrots they could gather, they returned to their ramshackle camp, carefully rationing out their supply of root vegetables. The prospect of surviving on the bland, gritty vegetables alone was undesirable, yet at the moment, they had little option. Andr sectioned off an adequate supply for the rest of the day in the event they failed to turn up more substantial food.