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

places. He studied the room ahead as it opened before them. With every step forward, a more complete picture of the interior materialized. As his field of vision increased, so too did his apprehension. Da'agryn was nowhere to be seen with his eyes, or with his mindsight. It wasn't until they'd almost fully entered the cavern that his presence was noted.

The cave and its furnishings looked much as it had the last time Ryl left. Aside from the pallets he'd slept on while he slumbered there for the night, the rest looked unused for ages. The table remained as before; in a state of permanent neglect for centuries. Hunched along the right wall, seated on the bench that jutted out, a lone, hooded figure sat.

The elder phrenic was slouched forward with his arms folded across his chest, and his head bobbed as if he was sleeping. Though his form appeared hale, there was something about it that seemed off. His body shimmered in places, much like a glint of light reflecting off of a shiny object below the water’s surface.

"Da'agryn?" Ryl breathed as they stopped inside the entrance to the cave.

"The prophet!" Kaep whispered.

Ryl raised his hands, removing the hood from his head. He heard the rustle of the cloth from behind, knowing that Kaep had done the same.

"Welcome back, Ryl. Welcome friends," the man replied. His voice was weak, airy and coarse. "Your coming brings much joy to my tired being."

His eyes wandered down to Ryl's right arm before moving to and pausing on his left.

"Ever the surprise, I see," he grinned.

"Aye. Thank you for your assistance at the orchards, Da'agryn," Ryl replied politely. "Countless lives owe you thanks.”

Da’agryn waved off the recognition with a sluggish flick of his wrist.

“I've learned much,” Ryl continued. “There is far more I've yet to fully understand.”

Ryl held out his left arm, rubbing it subconsciously with his right hand.

The elder phrenic looked up. The crooked smile that blossomed over his wispy beard was slight, yet heartfelt.

"As long as there is life that still flows through my being, through the very woods themselves, assistance will always be given," he replied. "I fear that your succor came at a great expense of energy. Though her reserves are not close to dry, she is weary, as you no doubt can sense. I am weary."

His gaze moved up and down Ryl's arm as his hands stroked his long grey beard. The grin on his face widened.

"As for your arm. I am as surprised as you. I’ve never seen the like," he admitted. "The alexen have had long to ponder. The ghosts of the past have had ages to conceive their wonders. Rest assured you'll understand it fully when the time is right."

"It is the answer I expected," Ryl acknowledged, nodding his head and forcing a smile before quickly changing the subject.

"The assistance you gave was paramount," he offered. "Though it was a ruse that will not likely succeed again, it bought us the time that we needed."

The smile on Da'agryn's face brightened for a moment before his expression turned serious.

"Time," he whispered. "Time is not a luxury you have. They'll come again in numbers you cannot withstand."

"We are prepared to fight," Andr interrupted with an uncommon force to his voice.

The eyes of Da'agryn pivoted to the mercenary. They were calm and probing, studying him with supreme curiosity, not scorn.

"I've seen the phrenics, felt their coming. Theirs are signatures I know well," Da'agryn noted. "You are a mystery to me. Though the woods whisper of your deeds."

Andr regarded the elder phrenic with a look of confusion.

"Tell me friend, why have you aided the phrenics? Why have you thrown your lot in with those the majority of your kind curse for their tainted blood?"

Ryl watched as the muscles on Andr's face clenched ever so slightly as the mercenary struggled to restrain his anger. He knew his friend bristled with rage at the insinuation.

"My motives are just," Andr hissed at Da'agryn. "I fight for Ryl. I fight for the phrenics of Vim and the Vigil. I fight for the tributes."

The mercenary paused as he glared into the eyes of the elder phrenic.

"I fight for my son," he said.

A mischievous smile spread across Da'agryn's face.

"Ah, the son. Therein lays the connection," the elder phrenic spoke. "Your motives were never under question, my friend. The woods would have never trusted you with Ryl's care had they been so."

Da'agryn stood slowly, his posture more hunched than Ryl had remembered. As he rose to his feet, it became apparent that the light that seemed to flicker across his body was in actuality the light dancing off the walls behind him. There was a slight transparency to his figure, as if his image had yet to completely form. He moved sluggishly, rounding the small fire.

"How is it that you're here?" Kaep interrupted the moment of silence. "What happened at the Prophet's Tree?"

"The tree is lost to us," Da'agryn stopped as reached the opposite side of the fire. It was a pained look that spread across his wizened face. "Outside the Palisades walls, there are a precious few areas left where the woods still cling to any of their elder power."

He waved his hands at the stone benches, ushering Ryl and his companions to sit.

"The loss of the tree will be mourned," he continued. "I could feel their coming. I could sense the blackness creeping through the woods. So few are the remaining pockets of energy, the journey from here in the heart of the woods to the tree is tiresome. It takes many moons before I can communicate with any true clarity. I am sorry, there was little I could do to warn you earlier."

His admission was sincere. Ryl could feel the raw emotion pouring from him with the statement. Not forced outward as an extension of his innate abilities but coursing from his very soul.

"In the times past, before the building of the Palisades, traveling the length of the woods would have been