Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3), C.J. Aaron [book recommendations .TXT] 📗

their defense, the guards and Vigil alike had stood their ground in the face of the unnatural army that had washed over them. However, they now eagerly hastened toward the mouth of the woods.

Ramm hoisted Vox onto his shoulders, carrying the unconscious elementalist with ease. Ryl and Kaep backpedaled, watching the army scatter across the fields to the south. Here and there a few pockets of resistance remained. Eagerly waiting for their chance to attack, desperately pleading with their fleeing comrades to rally to arms.

Their efforts were valiant, yet utterly fruitless. It was like moving the sea, one bucket at a time. The panicked stampede of a retreat eroded their numbers one by one, dragging the rest along until none remained.

The ghostly phrenic army that had been primed, ready for battle receded slowly backward into the trees of the orchard though their focus never strayed from the south. As the threat of attack diminished, so too did their number as they melted back into the trees as quickly as they'd come. The black clouds overhead continued their assault of scattered lighting, though the intensity and frequency diminished quickly.

As Ryl moved toward the woods, the blackened clouds overhead seemed to withdraw with them, receding back to where they had blossomed above the Erlyn’s core. By the time the phrenics caught up with the guard and Vigil there were less than one hundred meters between them and the woods. The black clouds and storm overhead were gone. The last of the ethereal warriors had disappeared, melting back into the trees.

The group of Le’Dral’s guards had paused waiting for their arrival. The looks of uncertainty were abundant, written across many of their faces.

They had just stared down an enemy army. They'd watched a far greater force appear and disappear without warning or explanation. They'd witnessed the sky above oven up with a coordinated fury that was unheard of.

The solitary hooded figure standing just inside the shadow of the woods gave them pause.

Ryl stepped forward, walking confidently toward the man. To him, the figure looked far more fragile, far more delicate that it had only moments before.

Before Ryl could close the distance, the phrenic at the woods’ edge nodded subtly before turning and staggering backwards into the darkness of the entrance

The rustle of leaves heralded his disappearance. The woods shuddered as if breathing a sigh of relief.

Chapter 37

The tributes and the caravan had reached Tabenville before Ryl and the guards had finished their journey through the Erlyn's gloomy interior. Le'Dral had left a group of six mounted warriors at the head of the path, though none feared the return of the army before the morrow at the earliest.

From the edge of the forest, Ryl watched the visible remains of the panic-riddled army fleeing frantically into the distance. All semblance of order and civility had retreated with them as they went. The stampede of bodies climbed over and clawed at each other with no regard for any—save themselves. Remnants of the massive force scattered, moving away across the terrain in paths of least resistance, like marbles across a board. Some even took to crossing the icy waters of the river to flee.

Ryl remained at the entrance, while Andr and the phrenic hovered close by until the last of the enemy army disappeared into the distance. The heads of the phrenics turned cautiously, observing the Erlyn that closed around them with a sense of wonder and awe. Andr's face was impassive, though his eyes frequently returned to where the figure had melted back into the tree line.

Closing his eyes, Ryl sent a brief, yet powerful feeling of thanks to the woods. There was a disturbing pause as he waited for a response. His eyes beheld the trees longingly. Their mighty branches seemed to droop as if weighed down by an unseen force. Even the choking brambles along the edge appeared less dense than he was accustomed to seeing.

When the sensation did come, it was barely more than the rustle of the leaves. The feeling of relief that lapped over him from the Erlyn’s depths was weak and tired. He took a step into the mouth of the woods, resting his hand gently on the rough bark of one of the trees that framed the opening. He connected with the forest, steeling himself as a deluge of information flooded his senses.

Ryl felt a sense of relief and welcome ripple up his arm from where it made contact with the tree. There was an unquestionable sense of joy, yet lingering tendrils of fear overshadowed the bliss. Even though fleeting, they clouded the other emotions as a single puff of dark cloud blots out the sun on a clear day.

The woods fell still; the footsteps of the leading groups had exited the road that passed through her domain. He could feel the light tapping of movement outside the entrance to Tabenville, likely the Vigil or guard who had been assigned watch duty. The sensations however were fleeting and surprisingly subdued. He noted the supreme effort in every simple motion of the trees. Even the swaying of the upper branches in the wind felt sluggish, sleepy.

Ryl hesitantly removed his hand from the tree, squinting his eyes as the discomfort of the broken connection rolled through him. His thoughts were morose; his concern overshadowed the victory they'd just achieved. The sound of Andr's voice snapped him out from the darkened recesses of his mind.

“Who was that phrenic who called the army?” He asked calmly. “Where did he go?”

Ryl arced his gaze across the forest, ending its review as his eyes met those of the mercenary.

“By his own admission he's gone by many names throughout the ages,” Ryl offered. “I know him as Da'agryn. The Erlyn led me to him a little over a cycle ago. Only the day before I met you. Others know him by a different name. Isn't that right?”

Ryl turned as he directed his question to the phrenics standing a few steps away.

They nodded