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

preventing him from toppling to the ground below. He gasped for breath as the effort expended left him winded and dizzy.

He didn’t have long to wait, to ponder if his effort had been in vain.

The leaves of the branch rustled around him as if a great wind had stirred their silence. Andr steadied his body, rolling onto his knees for balance as the limb shifted. The great tree groaned, issuing sharp snapping sounds as pieces of bark snapped with the motion. When the movement came to a rest, the branch had shifted its position, now running perpendicular to the wall. A shortened gap of only a meter remained.

Without testing his weight on the extremities of the limb, Andr rushed forward. The branch sagged as he neared the end. With a clumsy leap, he propelled himself across the gap between the wood and the stone. Andr toppled forward as he landed on the cold, hard walkway, rolling to a stop along the railing of the wall. His hands were shaking with excitement as he cupped them to his lips, letting out a whistle.

A period of intolerable silence followed.

At last, his anxious wait was rewarded by a high-pitched note in response.

Andr retrieved the torch from where it had fallen, moving eagerly to the outer wall. He leaned forward, holding the flame out over the edge, peering into the darkness below.

The weak light traveled only a matter of a few meters. Far too short to light the ground far below. The shine of the moon and stars painted a vague and stark scene.

Shadowed figures moved from the tree line. There was a single white spark, and a torch flashed to life, revealing its bearer.

A commanding, gravelly voice, deep and low, broke the silence. He was cloaked with the hood still raised. His left arm was tattooed from shoulder to wrist. Blooming up from behind his shoulder was the handle of a massive weapon.

“That is not the face I expected to see,” the man grumbled from under his hood.

As he stepped forward, the flames of other torches sparked alight. The foliage on the western side of the palisade was far less dense than the heart of the Erlyn, which remained to the east. Though the gaps in the leaves gave no indication of details, it was evident that there was motion from underneath.

Shadowed figures stepped from the trees by the dozens. Closest to the speaker, the four were cloaked like the first. The cloaked archers lowered their weapons.

The speaker removed his hood, revealing the smiling face beneath.

“It’s good to see you again, my friend,” the phrenic boomed.

Andr felt the heat of excitement course through him. His smile grew uncontrollably.

“Paasek.” He stumbled to form the overwhelming words as the emotion choked his voice. “How?”

The phrenic laughed. His gravelly voice rumbled like thunder.

“There will be time for that soon enough.” He laughed. “Is the wall clear?”

Andr blinked his eyes as he worked to shake himself from his amazed stare. He surveyed the rubble of the guard tower to the north. Nothing moved. No sound emanated from the pile. Any guards who inhabited the tower were now entombed under the wreckage. To the south, several small pinpoints of light danced along the top of the palisade.

Guards from the next towers hastened to investigate.

“More come from the south,” Andr called down. “You have a few minutes at best.”

Paasek nodded as he turned to his companion, quickly conferring with the group. The shadowed forms at his side stepped back, their figures swallowed again by the shadows of the woods. Paasek and a second cloaked phrenic strode forward.

The phrenic councilor paused a meter from the edge of the wall. He reached down, collecting a pebble from the ground before him. With care, he polished the stone between his fingers, holding it up before his eyes, studying the details, though the dark of the waning night was still deep.

He tossed the pebble over his shoulder, stepping forward to the base of the wall. He placed his hand against the palisade, bowing his head in concentration.

From Andr’s view meters above, the intricate details were lost in the darkness of the night. The light from his torch failed to penetrate the darkness deep enough to illuminate more than the crude features below. The glint of light reflecting from the phrenic’s arms fractured as the composition of his skin seemingly changed. The smooth features hardened into jagged, crystalline ridges.

Andr felt the palisade below his feet quake. He steadied himself against the stone railing as the wall around him shook. A rough sound of stone grating against stone accompanied the tremor. As quickly as it had started, the rumbling of the wall stilled.

He peered over the railing, searching for the phrenic in the darkness. The second figure aided Paasek to his feet. The phrenic councilor stumbled as he attempted to hold himself upright. Andr stifled a gasp at the sight to the left of the phrenics.

A thin protrusion, a little less than a meter wide, extended from the wall. At seemingly planned intervals, it rose steadily higher, forming a crude staircase, which stopped a meter from the peak of the palisade. Silently, the cloaked figures began ascending the stairs. Andr reached his hand out a moment later. His grasp was rewarded by the strong grip of a calloused hand.

An instant later, the phrenic vaulted over the low railing of the wall. The hooded figure froze for a moment, its head scanning from side to side. Having learned the lost history of Damaris, Andr understood the reverence of The Stocks to the forgotten order. He remained silent as the warrior viewed for the first time the prison from which his ancestors had escaped.

The phrenic slowly removed the hood that shadowed its face. The youthful exuberance written across the young man’s features was infectious. Andr couldn’t help but smile as he recognized the face of the phrenic before him.

“Paelec,” Andr exclaimed as he pulled the phrenic into a brief, yet heartfelt embrace. “It’s good to see you