The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4), C.J. Aaron [best novel books to read .TXT] 📗

a finger’s width of his blade cleared the sheath. A wave of calm washed over him. The limbs of the forest surrounding him rustled as they flexed, spreading the soothing emotion.

“Da’agryn,” Andr gasped as his eyes adjusted to the wraithlike figure behind him. “Have you recovered?”

The prophet’s body was opaque, far more than when he’d called forth the ghosts from the Erlyn’s midst. Its edges glowed with a soft green light, while the body offered few definitive details save his head.

“Silence. You will listen.” Da’agryn’s voice was thin and airy. It whispered to him as nothing more than a breeze blowing through the trees around him. The outline of his nearly transparent mouth remained locked shut as the words rang in Andr’s ears.

“Time is short, and the importance cannot be understated.” The prophet’s words were soft yet clear. “I fear the night may have no end. The balance has shifted too far. It will seek to snuff out the light that follows him wherever he travels.”

Da’agryn’s body moved past Andr, floating further along the flattened branch. His feet had vanished, seemingly a part of the tree itself.

“The unawakened, the ones they call tributes, have cleared the poison that held their true powers in check. With every drop removed from their bodies, they burn brighter. They attract attention, yet they are not ready. It is not man that you need to fear anymore.”

His body stopped at the end of the branch. Da’agryn’s image faded a little more with every passing moment.

“It’s a view that never gets old.” The voice was barely audible. Andr strained to hear.

Da’agryn turned to face him. Though his image faltered, his pointed stare could be felt. “I see devastation beyond words. Death beyond measure yet hope still lingers. Do not give in to despair. From defiance comes salvation. You will be rewarded for your vigil.”

The phrenic disappeared with a rustle of leaves.

“Salvation?” Andr whispered to himself, squinting his eyes as he peered out into the moonlit landscape.

“Nothing comes from there but death,” he muttered to himself.

Though a wide swath of green still extended miles to the west, the vast expanse of land beyond was an arid, monochromatic waste. Few creatures moved without fear. The withering sensation permeated everything there. He knew all too well that the disorienting and harsh landscape offered little sustenance. Its true denizens offered little hope for survival.

The soft mutter of conversation rang from the guard station to the north. A sliver of yellow light splashed out, lighting the section of walkway that stretched along the top of the palisade. A pair of guards, bows slung over their shoulders, walked casually from their post. The lead carried a torch, angling the flame out over the woods to their side. Their vision was trained to the east. Into the Erlyn.

The patrol, though their eyes swept the trees for movement, was lazy. The noise of their conversation was far too loud. Between their volume, their torch, and the light that poured from the open doorway behind them, they illuminated their position for all to see.

Andr shook his head as he slid carefully back against the trunk of the tree. His disgust for the lack of discipline among the guards had been ingrained long before his feigned allegiance to their cause. In his eyes, they were lazy, poorly trained, and generally a worthless bunch. Many succeeded through sheer bloodlust and brutality.

A brilliant flash of light tracked across the sky to the west. The voluminous clouds were spreading far to the south, enveloping the stars overhead. A low whistle followed the dramatic show of light in the sky. The noise, though faint, continued long after the light had disappeared. Andr felt his body tense as the sound continued.

The pair of guards stopped their patrol, turning their attention to the west. The long, droning note of the call spiked suddenly, ending with a high-pitched trill.

Andr’s heart raced at the sound. Foreign and unexpected as it was, he knew that call.

A high-pitched hum followed.

Arrows.

With flawless timing, the pointed tips punched through the backs of the patrolling guards. The torchbearer crumpled to the ground. The flame sputtered, sending out a shower of sparks, yet remained lit. The second wavered for a moment before toppling over the exterior edge of the palisade. A sickening crunch signaled that his body had found the ground below.

Andr reached for his sword, rapidly judging the distance from the edge of the branch to the wall beyond.

A gap of nearly five meters separated him from the walkway. With little runway, the leap would be perilous at best. The fall would be disastrous.

A blinding streak of light lit the night. The jagged bolt emanated from the west, streaking upward from the ground. The jagged lance of energy slammed into the guard tower. The orange glow that issued from the slender windows flashed white for an instant. The middle of the tower flexed outward as the stone structure swelled. A deep rumble sounded as the concussive blast ripped the tower apart. There was a muffled scream from one of the unlucky inhabitants as the heavy stone debris sprayed in all directions. Andr shuffled back to the trunk of the tree as the fragments rained down into the forest. Nothing but smoke and rubble remained where the tower once stood.

Andr judged the distance once again, his body itching to attempt the foolhardy leap. If only the branch were angled more toward the palisade, he could make it with relative ease.

He stopped in his tracks as the thought spurred a tangible idea.

Andr turned from the palisade, placing his head against the rough bark of the tree. He squeezed his eyes shut as he concentrated on the forest. Through his excitement, he struggled to focus his mind. The images he forced into existence were fragmented at best.

A moment was all he could afford to stand. With effort, he wrenched his hand from the tree, falling backward onto the wide platform of the branch. His hand caught ahold of a slender vertical branch