The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) Read online

  Each wrapped figure swayed silently in a gentle breeze. Ryl recalled scrunching his nose as the rancid odor registered. It was a fetid stench of the Outland Horde. The blood. The nexela. Thankfully, the gentle gust dissipated the potency as it swirled upward and away.

  The haunted, gaunt faces of those who only cycles past were tributes like himself stared outward into nothingness. Though their eyes were open, their fixed gazes were hollow. Their vision focused on something unseen, far in the distance. Their gaze bored through any who walked across their path.

  The images conjured an eerie correlation to the haunting backdrop of the processing facility. As blood and the alexen leaked from their bodies then, now it was the nexela which was bled with sluggish precision. Would the result finally allow them a measure of peace? For the first time, they’d be free. Their faculties their own, no longer beholden to the twisted will of others.

  Ryl loathed that he was unable to be there when they had been arranged before the trees. Though his presence would have likely gone unnoticed, his desire to have attempted to comfort them was undeniable. He poured a wave of calm from his core, washing over those gathered in the grove. None had issued the slightest flinch in response.

  The images and scents were burning into his mind. Ryl squeezed his eyes shut, working to rid himself of the scene. He forced the imagery beneath the questions that still ran roughshod over his addled mind. His measured pace toward the gathering around the fire slowed, pausing for a moment as he collected his thoughts.

  There was a definitive gap in the timeline of events that had occurred. The loss of time, of information, was again disconcerting. Like the tales of his travel through the wastes of the Outlands after the sickness had rendered him immobile, he was forced to relive the story through the words of others. It was an off-putting feeling living momentous sections of his life secondhand. How much truth was there to be gleaned from the overexaggerated, colorfully animated tales of his actions?

  Fragmented images, emotions and feelings were all that remained. His encounter with the Lei Guard at the edge of the Erlyn had pushed him further beyond his brink yet again. The power that had forced itself from his arm, coalescing into a brilliant white orb, had sapped the strength from him. He’d felt the entirety of the host of alexen shifting through his body. A chill, an all-encompassing icy void, had remained in its wake as it converged in a single point. The lack of sensation that remained after its passing had been as confusing as it was undeniable.

  He’d felt an icy numbness, yet simultaneously a scorching agony. It froze and burned until all his senses failed in unison.

  He’d felt crushed by the weight.

  It was a touch that has saved him. Kaep’s hand on his arm elicited a jolt of power so potent it frightened him.

  What had happened after the detonation of the orb had been relayed to him secondhand.

  The tale from the phrenics, guards and tributes alike had been startlingly consistent. The ball of energy exploded outward as it impacted with the ground. Even for those without the speed of the phrenics, time seemed to pause. The approach of the Lei Guard had stalled as if they were encased in ice. The wicked blades halted meters from drawing the blood they so fiercely sought.

  The dome of light, or raw energy, expanded upward, reaching far above his head. The power, electric and terrifying, cracked as it ignited the air. The light burned so intense that color was lost to shades of white and black.

  The momentary pause of time ended as startlingly as it had begun. Time snapped back to normal. A deafening clap of thunder accompanied a violent ripple in the air as an unseen wave of energy exploded outward from where he’d stood. Guards and tributes were tossed from their feet by the unrelenting and unnatural force.

  The light collapsed back to Ryl, rushing into a single location in his core. He doubled over; his face locked in a soundless scream of agony. As the energy passed the Lei Guard, it seemingly carried with it their driven animosity, their will to fight.

  Their urge for blood.

  Their consciousness.

  One by one, they collapsed to the ground, the last of them crashing face-first to the damp soil at Ryl’s feet. The long, curved sword in its hand, primed for the killing strike, embedded itself in the soft earth of the recently worked field.

  Ryl’s body was the last to crumple. At his side, the still form of Kaep lay unmoving save for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

  As quickly as it had come, the flash of light vanished. All in Tabenville were now awake. Any with the fortitude to fight had taken up arms to defend against whatever wave of soldiers would pour from the darkened maw of the forest.

  The force was modest, yet the fighting was frantic. Trained soldiers pitted themselves against comrades from days earlier. Inhuman strength and seething orbs of fire had laid waste indiscriminately.

  In the end, it was an assault of forty-nine Lei Guards and a company of nearly fifty soldiers. Seven groups of the dreaded warriors descended upon their meager rebellion. Though the black-cloaked warriors were outnumbered, only a fraction of the newly liberated and their companions, it would have been a slaughter. All who opposed would have been butchered with ease. As it was, twelve members of their beleaguered army lay dead. Soldi was among those who perished in the assault.

  Another faithful defender of Vim had died. His lifeblood had been spilled on the cruel, fertile grounds of Damaris.

  Ryl mourned the loss of his companion, as did all who’d accompanied the small group from the hidden city of Vim. Dav, of all, was the most affected by the loss. To him, Soldi had been a friend and a trusted warrior.

  At the present, there was no time to mourn.

  It was with heavy hearts that the retreat into the depth of the Erlyn was enacted. As both Kaep and Ryl had been incapacitated in the battle, the task of opening the pathway to the hidden ramparts of the forest fell to Andr. The two remaining phrenics, Ramm and Vox, had yet to see the location, though they were willing tutors of the mercenary.

  From all accounts, Andr had performed astonishingly well. Not that Ryl had any doubts. His position among the guards and tributes had grown to nearly mythical status. Though Ryl had yet to see his control over the forest, he understood the character and the mettle of the mercenary.

  His friend.

  The gifts from the Erlyn were undeniable. For the first time in known history, the ancient woods obeyed the command of one not gifted with the blood of a phrenic.

  Ryl paused in his attempt to piece together fragments of the recent past. In the long run, what knowledge was firsthand and what had been retold was immaterial. He hastened toward the gathering in the center of the clearing.

  He nodded his head in greeting as he reached the gathering, pausing as he reached the fire’s side. Though the air inside the hidden clearing was pleasant, he held out his hands subconsciously, warming them over the remaining embers of the withering blaze.

  “All have had their second day’s doses of the remedy.” Vox interrupted the scattered hushed conversations, forsaking a formal greeting. He began the meeting without fanfare or preamble. Ryl found his mind was still distracted, his thoughts elsewhere.

  Kaep.

  Elias.

  Their absence was felt profoundly. The emotions, however, were mixed with diametric potency.

  After a moment, Ryl grunted as he nodded in agreement. It was with effort that he focused on the proceedings.

  Under the direction of the phrenics, the process of brewing the putrid remedy had begun shortly after the party had entered the clearing. The dust had barely settled after Elias’s attack, after the Lei Guard were entered into the Erlyn’s care when the leaves had been revealed. Though Andr and the phrenics allowed all to make the choice whether to partake in the remedy, to their satisfaction, none had resisted the putrid liquid. The tributes were keenly aware of the vile treatments that had been forced upon them since the day they crossed the dreaded threshold of The Stocks.

  Somehow, the disgu
st was made far more palatable when the freedom of choice was allowed to enter the equation.

  “I can’t help but marvel at the voracious appetite of the remedy,” Mender Jeffers announced as he joined the assembly. He cleaned his hands on a scrap of cleanish cloth. Stopping close to Ryl’s side, he tossed the piece into the fire. A momentary flare of light, heat, and a waft of putrid odor bloomed from the small blaze as the scrap took flame. The stench of the blighted rose dissipated rapidly, covered nicely by the heady scent of burning wood.

  “The remedy brewed from those putrid leaves has drastically exacerbated the onset of the sickness,” Jeffers continued. “The brunt of the ill effects took over within hours. I was worried, to be honest, yet all are stable at the present.”

  Ryl was concerned as the mender retold the rapidity of the sickness. The debilitating effects had hammered the tributes’ withered bodies within hours, even before the last had swallowed a drop of the rank liquid. The initial effects of the putrid drought began almost immediately. Without exception, all who consumed the foul liquid were unconscious within half a day.

  His eyes scanned the group that had been assembled. All showed some recognition of the harrowing decline. The relief that all were stable was evident. So much so, that the opinion went unvoiced.

  Captain Le’Dral stood stoic, though his head nodded slightly with assent. At his sides, Moyan and Millis agreed. Cavlin, seated on a stump a few meters away, grunted as he kicked, returning a stray ember to the fire from where it came. The warrior’s conscious presence was a comfort to Ryl. Though his frame was still weak, still recovering, there was no denying the lethality he still possessed. A sword was strapped casually to his hip.

  Andr stood with his arms crossed over his chest at the opposite side of the blaze. His eyes met with Ryl’s for a moment. His opinion was clear. A little apart from the others, the phrenics remained, their bodies motionless, hoods still drawn over their faces. Ryl could feel their gaze from under their cowls. The emotions they projected stated their approval as loudly as any words could convey.

  “The course will need to be continued,” Ryl intoned, “though I fear there is no concrete evidence for how long. As the mender can attest, my doses of treatment far surpassed any here. Though I suffered the sickness longer and was incapacitated before starting the remedy, I was back on my feet within a week.”

  “It makes sense that theirs will be shorter, though without knowing the strength of your remedy, it will be hard to guess,” Jeffers added. “The leaves have likely lost some efficacy after the drying process.”

  “I admit, I was concerned about the violence of the rapid response.” Le’Dral joined the conversation. His voice was authoritative, yet he spoke as one who welcomed input, not demanded obedience. “Their course has corrected. My concern now is for our safety. Too many have now been drafted into the service of the mender. We have too few left to bear arms.”

  Words of agreement echoed among the captain’s lieutenants. Cavlin, from his seat, nodded, leaning forward against the crutch in his hand. Ryl shared a knowing glance with Andr.

  “We are few, but it will be enough,” Ryl announced. “The army can march as one. They will descend upon Tabenville to find nothing but empty houses and barracks.”

  “What of the Lei Guard?” Moyan’s deep voice quizzed. “They surprised us once. Our sentries were butchered, offering us no alarm. We were lucky to survive.”

  The unexpected suddenness of the attack still troubled Ryl. The Erlyn had given no warning. The melee held every similarity to the battle at the prophet’s tree. The appearance of the cloaked figure had largely troubled him for moons. That it was a Lei Guard, he was certain.

  The Horde had acted deferential to its presence. That they had acquiesced to its command was even more troubling. The woods there still contained the essence of the Erlyn, yet they had been able to approach unannounced. Could the Lei Guard still hold command over the woods as well? Did their tainted bodies still hold enough residual alexen to confuse the woods?

  Ryl turned his glance to the phrenics, meeting their eyes for a moment.

  “A portion of this will be ours to bear,” he acknowledged. “With a phrenic, a lone sentry is all that is required to man the entrance to the woods. The Lei Guard will be afforded no opportunity of a surprise assault. Only those here know the makeup of our sanctuary among the trees. Fewer still can control the pathway to this location.”

  “Elias can,” Cavlin warned.

  It was a frustrating and troublesome thought that mirrored Ryl’s concern. The knowledge of an arboreal safe house would spread once Elias connected with the army, or whomever he answered to. Outside of their army, Elias alone had seen the pathway. Fearing that possibility, and longing for the return of Kaep, Ryl had connected with the forest soon after resuming his faculties. Her abduction stung him. That it was perpetrated by Elias wounded him deeper than he could have imagined.

  The pain was still fresh.

  The response from the woods was definitive. All was quiet. Nothing moved under its domain, though an obvious air of sorrow permeated every branch. It saturated the area, like water absorbed from a rainstorm. Elias was no longer under the Erlyn’s domain, yet Ryl could feel his presence lingering at the periphery of his senses. It was as if he was taunting him. Flaunting his proximity, just outside his reach.

  He was south of the forest. Ryl felt an unnatural pull toward him. Even from the boundary of the woods, the mindsight produced no images. Absent were the blackened stains of the Horde. The disturbing void that he’d come to associate with Elias was nowhere to be seen, yet the call was undeniable. The hint of concern from the alexen was obvious, warning him that he was likely being baited to give chase.

  “Elias is no longer in the woods,” Ryl added.

  “How can you be so sure?” Millis interrupted.

  “None disturb the pathways of the forest save our group.” Ryl’s answer was sharp, colored by a certainty in his voice that was undeniable. His tone softened immediately.

  “Much has been asked of you over the last few days,” he continued. “Beliefs you’ve endured for a lifetime have been challenged. Powers that were nothing more than myth have been proven real. I ask you to believe, to trust in me once more. He is in the forest no more.”

  He commanded the attention of all gathered around the fire.

  “As some can control the pathways hidden within this forest, there is much more that can be understood from these trees,” Ryl admitted. “When connected to the Erlyn, I can feel the passing of every footstep that treads on her soil. I can sense the tingle of the breeze that rustles the leaves, like wind jostling the hair on my head. None linger, hidden beneath these boughs, who would cause us any harm. The same can be said for Kaep. She has been moved beyond the domain of the forest.”

  This much Ryl had already known. The phrenics had been emphatic in their scouting. Kaep was one of their own. She was as much a sister to them as any could be. Her disappearance, her loss was mourned. So soon after the death of Deyalou, the agony was too real.

  Their combined searches had come up empty. Ryl felt the alexen agitate. The blood in his veins burned as the thought amplified the emotion. He wasn’t ready to give up on finding her yet.

  It was true, much had been asked of all within the last few days. Most had accepted the change without contestation. Though the truth countered a lifetime of belief and learning, it was impossible to argue with the new reality.

  “I’m sorry, Ryl. We scouted with the phrenics well beyond the orchards,” Le’Dral replied. The concern and compassion in his voice was genuine. “We traveled as close as we safely dared to the scattered mass of the army. There was no sign of your companion.”

  “I’m not willing to give up hope yet,” Ryl hissed as the emotion surged.

  “I’m afraid there is not much we can do, given our present situation,” Le’Dral commiserated. “If there was a chance of reclaiming her, I’d ride out tonight. They have more tha
n a full day’s head start. Even hindered by having to carry her, they’ve likely rejoined the army at this point. We cannot stand against that force in the open.”

  Ryl knew the logic was valid. He burned to shake off the words. Action was needed, not complacency. A commotion from the base of one of the trees temporarily drew his attention.

  Faya skipped across the clearing with all the reckless abandon one would expect from a child her age. Ryl continued to marvel at her ability to maneuver uninhibited even though her eyes were sightless. Rolen followed close at her heels. His kind, fatherly voice, however, did little to disguise the frustration and embarrassment at his young daughter’s actions. His words did nothing to dissuade her progress.

  “I’m sorry,” Rolen called as his daughter squeezed through the gap between Le’Dral and Moyan.

  “They’re right about Kaep.” Faya’s soft voice was still heavy with sleep, though her sightless eyes were bright with mischief. “I saw her, Ryl.”

  Ryl knelt as Faya stopped a step away.

  “How?” Le’Dral breathed.

  Her face pivoted toward the captain. A mild look of annoyance registered across her countenance. The look was short-lived. She turned back to face Ryl, a coy grin stretching seemingly ear to ear.

  “I saw her in my dream,” she announced. “They approach the army even now.”

  Vox moved a step forward. A wave of wonder washed over Ryl.

  “She’s a seer,” he whispered. “None have been recorded since the palisades were constructed.”

  “Tell me, young Faya.” Ryl placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “Was she well?”

  Faya nodded as she sat herself on Ryl’s bent leg. She threw one of her thin arms around his shoulders.

  “Aye, Ryl,” she answered, though her face contorted slightly into the beginnings of a frown. “She was still sleeping, and her arms and legs were bound. Elias, he keeps looking back over his shoulder, though he makes no attempt to hurry.”

  “Come on, Faya, love. Let’s get back to sleep.” Rolen stepped closer, his hands outstretched to collect his daughter.