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

measured, affected by conscious thought. They had waited for commands at the great tree.

Who or what commanded them now?

Through the darkness it was difficult to determine the composition of the group. The stragglers and impatient runners who’d broken from the mass were long and lean. Their lanky bodies easily identified them as the harriers. Built for speed, they were light yet lethal. Ryl peered into the gloom. He noted none of the powerful banes among the group.

With their combined mass, harriers could eventually force their way through the gate. It was more likely that they’d utilize the bodies of their dead as a ladder, climbing ever higher until they spilled over the wall. The muscular bane could crush the sturdy gate if given free charge.

In truth, little was known about their social structure. The common assumption was that strength demanded obedience. The harriers obeyed the bane. Who then controlled them?

Ryl’s thoughts flashed back to the fleeting vision of the black-cloaked figure, the last to flee after the destruction of the tree. Its presence and identity was a mystery. He rubbed his left arm again, letting the alexen surge for a moment, dulling for a moment the consistent pain.

“What do they wait for?” The voice behind Ryl broke him from his momentary introspection. Fay moved to join him at the wall. Cipri followed close at his heels.

Ryl nodded in greeting as the lord leaned forward, resting his elbows on the barrier. Fay let out an audible sigh.

“Not what you expected to find?” Ryl asked rhetorically.

“Not in my wildest dreams, or nightmares.” He sighed. “What is there to do in the face of such numbers? Even were we to run, the woods are some fifty miles to the north. Those on horseback might outrun the charge. The others …” His voice trailed off.

“You could have stayed in Cantros,” Ryl prodded the brooding lord.

“Aye, that I could have,” Fay added. “Gencep would never have allowed it. Seems our last voyage failed to satiate his appetite for adventure. I had to curse him to remain in my stead. Nonetheless, he is needed to run the day-to-day business of my house. Aye, we could have stayed, though that wouldn’t be the right thing to do, now would it?”

Fay looked questioningly at Ryl for a moment.

“Neither would running now, I suppose,” Fay added.

“There is always hope,” Ryl offered.

Fay snorted a laugh, a sarcastic whoop that he failed to contain.

“What hope do you see, my friend?” Fay quizzed. “Do we await the charge of the king’s army? It’s their lights I see to the east if I’m not mistaken.”

Ryl scowled at the advancing Horde, scanning with his mindsight. The view was like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. A steady sheet of darkness blocked his vision. The great mass moved toward the wall, though their eastern expansion seemed to halt at the avenue leading to the Pining Gates. In the distance, clearly visible, was the vanguard for the king’s army, yet they remained unmolested. He grimaced at the intensifying pain.

“Your scouts were likely not mistaken,” Ryl added. “If anything, I’d have counted on them to buy us a measure of time. They may still.”

“They’ll be washed away by the sea of darkness,” Fay growled, “if they are not already consumed by it. So, tell me again, what hope is there?”

Ryl pondered the thought for a moment. Perhaps in Fay’s words lay the truth to the patience of the Horde. The Blessing of the King, the precious elixir harvested from the lifeblood of the tributes, granted those in the king’s favor extended life. What was the true cost of their fealty? Had they sold themselves into a sort of self-imposed slavery? Was this the true purpose all along? Had Leiroth not been satisfied ruling over men alone?

Hope?

Hope was not here in Damaris.

Hope remained in the mountains far to the west.

In Vim.

“I returned to The Stocks to free the tributes,” Ryl whispered. “That focus still remains. They are my hope. My hope that with the attention focused here, they can flee. That they can reach the only safe haven left for them. I wanted to spell the doom of the Ascertaining Decree, though that likely matters not anymore. Once the Horde are released on the kingdom, none will survive for long.”

Ryl stood tall as the rush of alexen surged the heat through his veins. The brightening pink hues of the horizon to the east signaled the coming of the morning sun.

“I’ll not abandon them,” he growled. “Just as I’ll not abandon you.”

The approaching wave of the Horde halted at the edge of the courtyard. The sharp grating of teeth gnashing together rattled in the distance. The gentle breeze did little to waft away the horrific odor of death.

Ryl waited as the sea of approaching demons stalled. Behind the initial line that stood firm before the edge of the courtyard, the avenues and alleyways filled with the press of blackened bodies.

“What do we do now?” Fay inquired.

“We wait,” Ryl added. “Any delay will bring us closer to light. Will bring the hope of more archers for the walls. More bodies to shore the gate.”

Fay nodded his head in acceptance.

“They will see the enemy more clearly. Will not our archers be able to pick off the demons with greater accuracy in the light? What do they wait for?” Fay continued, the questions rolling from his lips without allowing the time for an answer.

Ryl thought back to his time among the Outlands, before the sickness robbed the lucidity of conscious thought. The Horde had followed them for days. At first, they were but shadows in the darkness. Night after night they grew bolder, their harassment more intense. They waged a psychological war against him and Andr, forcing them into a destination of their choosing.

The assault only began in earnest once they had corralled their prey into the perfect position, under the precise circumstances.

“When they stalked us in the Outlands, they used surprise. They never showed themselves until it was too late,”