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

“Aye, that was a man easily recognized,” Vox answered for the group. His voice was quiet, almost reverent. “We've come to know him only as the prophet.”

“How's that possible?” Andr interrupted.

Ryl chuckled as he clapped his friend on the shoulder.

“You can ask him soon enough, my friend,” he said with a smile.

The conversation was subdued as they moved quickly after their group through the depths of the forest. Ryl felt an uncontrollable feeling of peace as he walked through the shade of the Erlyn. Being under her boughs was a comfort he could not deny. The familiarity of the woods was unmistakable. He knew every tree, recognized every blade of grass along the path, as if he'd spent a lifetime walking among them. The quiet babble of the river at his side was a constant, calming melody.

It wasn't long before they exited the tranquility of the forest to a vastly contrasting scene. The normally sleepy village was abuzz with a flurry of activity, far beyond its norm. The accumulation of nearly five hundred individuals filled the settlement to well beyond its capacity. Tabenville was overflowing with life. Teeming with tributes and guards.

The wealth of activity spilled outward from the normally sedated village, spreading out into the surrounding recently harvested fields. The hooves of horses and the feet of men and women trod carelessly across the idle farmland.

The small stable that marked the outermost building of Tabenville now swelled, incapable of containing the nearly one hundred horses who accompanied their miniscule force. Both guard and tribute alike worked hastily, repurposing fences and spare boards to pen in the herd.

Ryl could see the captain ahead in the square. His arms showed evidence of the commands as he spoke to both tribute and guard alike. Behind him the massive statue of Taben the Defender loomed, the swirling mists from the thundering falls at his side shrouding the area in an ethereal aura.

The phrenics stopped as they entered. Ryl paused with them, smiling as their eyes drank in every detail of the area before them. They'd only heard of the Erlyn, the statue, the falls and the village in the stories and tomes passed down through the generations. None from their hidden city of Vim had ever set foot back into the civilizations of Damaris.

Ryl surveyed the surroundings with his friends. The simple beauty of the area had been lost on him during his entrapment in The Stocks. He looked upon the village now with fresh eyes. He viewed the area with an awakened mind—the understanding of the alexen that had seen, felt and experienced the lives of thousands of phrenics before him.

It was with effort that he removed himself from his revenant viewing, moving several steps forward to Andr, who'd waited patiently for them to continue.

“Back to where it all started, eh?” The mercenary offered with a grin as Ryl approached.

Ryl placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

“Aye, my friend,” he responded quietly. “If not for your assistance, it would have ended here too.”

“You make too much of my assistance,” he said dismissively. “I have no doubt you would have found a way. Though I'm proud to have come along on the journey.”

Their heads turned as the shrill sound of Mender Jeffers’ voice from the square cut through the rumble of the falls in the distance. Ryl noted the agitation in the normally impassive mender’s face as he directed the movement of the injured, as well as the medical supplies, into the dry confines of the officer’s quarters.

Ryl felt the approach of the phrenics from their rear.

“Come, there is much to do,” he said as he pivoted to greet them.

“Welcome to Tabenville.”

Chapter 38

It was hours before the fervent commotion within Tabenville had subsided to some semblance of its normal calm. Ryl had met with the captain, the remaining guards and tributes in the swirling mists of the square. Though they were for the moment safe within the confines of Tabenville there was still much that needed to be accomplished.

Ensuring the safety of everyone within Tabenville—tribute, guard and phrenic alike—was their overriding priority. To that extent, Le'Dral and his officers, Millis and Moyan determined the patrol schedule for the bulk of the guards and cavalry. They would maintain a steady watch over both the entrance and exit to the woods. A contingent of mounted soldiers would remain at the entrance to the Erlyn, where the forest gave way to the orchard and plains beyond. Here their eyes were trained on the gently rolling terrain of The Stocks, watching for signs of the returning army. Though no hint of their approach had been noted as of yet, none believed that their reprieve would last long.

A second watch remained at the mouth of the Erlyn where the forested path exited into the settlement of Tabenville. This small party consisted of Vigil, guard, and cavalry alike. The patrols of their horses remained in regular contact with their counterparts standing sentry at the other side of the dark woods.

The wounded were the next priority that the beleaguered party sought to remedy. Between the battles, ambush and the tributes from the facility, Jeffers had his hands full. Sarial remained his steadfast assistant, delegating the work among any who'd volunteered to assist with the varied degrees of required treatments. The mender remained in command of the most severe of the cases, leaving Sarial overall autonomy to remedy the rest.

Ryl had yet to discuss at length the plan for brewing the remedy they carried with them— the dried, potent smelling leaves of the blighted rose. They had no concept of how great of an effect the potion would have, however it was mutually agreed upon that it would diminish the duration of the coming sickness. Even if it were to shorten the length by half, they were still looking at nearly half a moon before they'd likely be hale enough to travel.

Would they be granted that lengthy a reprieve?

Would they need to