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

Ryl forced a small smile as he responded.

"I'm afraid we've likely saw the bulk of what the woods can provide," Ryl’s voice was somber, but resolute as he responded. Unsurprisingly, he saw the shoulders of the three officers standing before him slump slightly at his admission.

They were likely some of the most experienced and disciplined military minds in the entirety of Damaris. They all understood the severity of their position. While the narrow entrance to Tabenville provided the best defensive position within The Stocks, the disparity in their numbers bordered on hopeless. They stood less than one hundred trained soldiers against the entire force of the Kingdom. Their defense would be futile if the siege stretched out for long.

The tributes would need to begin their regimen of remedy soon. Even with the increased rate of recovery, it would be likely two weeks before they were hale enough to move with any great speed.

"Though feats like this morning may be out of her reach, her assistance will still remain," Ryl announced to their obvious confusion.

"The Erlyn has granted us access to areas that have not been viewed by living eyes in a millennium," he continued. As he spoke, he pushed out a subtle wave of encouragement, flavoring his words with added hope. "It was within the confines of this forest stronghold that Taben the Defender launched his attacks on the demon Horde that threatened the end of Damaris."

There was a collective gasp from Le'Dral and his officers.

"The day's drawn late and all are exhausted," Ryl added. "At first light, we move into the Erlyn."

The discussions were short but succinct, the planning brief yet furtive. Ryl soon found himself wandering the familiar square of Tabenville, cataloguing the sleepy village he'd come to know well. He paused briefly to connect momentarily with tributes, the family he'd missed so dearly. He did his best to assure them of the path that was to come. To instill hope into minds that had been starved of the slightest glimmer for cycles.

It wasn't long before the call of sleep became too much to bear.

Chapter 42

Ryl woke with a start. Even with the incessant mist from the falls, he'd chosen to sleep outside; a small scrap of fabric draped overhead provided little relief from the swirling moisture. Their combined numbers were close to five hundred souls, far too large a group to fit comfortably within the cramped confines of the sleepy settlement.

A roaring fire had been built in the center of the square, and the dampness of the air and the roar of the falls was a strange comfort to his stressed mind. They'd survived the journey from Vim. They'd rescued the comatose shells of the tributes from the facility, ending the reign of at least one of the dreaded production facilities. They had overthrown the Harvest and liberated The Stocks. Although their status was still tenuous, the tributes were now free. An alliance of sorts had been formed in their shared blood with those who had recently served as their guards.

The harrowing fifty-mile trip to Tabenville was complete. They had accomplished much in such a short period of time, yet there was still a daunting amount that remained incomplete. The glimmering of a lingering discomfort crept into the back of his mind.

Something felt off. There was an unnatural, unnerving feeling in the air. The call from within his blood to relocate to the wooded confines of the Erlyn was intense. He felt it from inside his body.

He was worried. The woods that had ever been the pillar of strength had been so weak when they'd last left the shadows of her boughs. He noted a faint disconcerting pull toward her, one that tugged at the periphery of his senses.

Ryl rose quickly, surveying the area with his eyes. He saw the sleeping figures of those gathered around the waning flames of the fire. The orange-yellow glow cast an ominous ring of light on the damp and misty area. The sky overhead was lit with the first evidence of the brightening moments of pre-dawn. He moved quietly through the square, heading south on the road toward the edge of the Erlyn. To his side, the officer’s quarters, barracks and storeroom were quiet, though a group of guards conversed in hushed voices on the steps outside.

In the distance, he heard the nickering of horses rise from within their hastily constructed corral. A few of the beasts moved about, agitated at their crowded confines. A pair of guards moved purposefully to settle the animals.

Against the dark line of the forest a pair of torches burned, illuminating the silhouettes of the contingent of sentries standing watch over the road.

The call from the Erlyn grew steadily as he approached. Her voice that had been a whisper in the distance of the square rose steadily. She was crying out, though her voice was weak.

There was panic. There was urgency.

There was alarm.

Without warning, the torches bordering the woods extinguished as if snuffed out by unseen hands. There was a muted, yet unmistakable cry, ending in a wet gurgle.

Ryl stopped abruptly; his mindsight flashed to view unbeckoned. The picture it painted was vivid.

It was terrifying.

A mass of darkness poured out from the mouth of the Erlyn. The tingling in his left arm began rising to a rampant pitch. His momentary view was enough to register the peril of their situation. A mass of Lei Guard approached silently from the woods. How had they reached them so quickly?

The first waves of their hatred assaulted him, nearly choking the warning that streamed from his mouth. Sounds of commotion rose from the village behind as his alarm disrupted the slumber of the settlement. The din of the agitated horses in the corral increased as more of the mounts struggled under the onslaught of fear.

Ahead he could now see the shapes, black masses against the trees of the forest. The limp form of a body dropped from the hands of a shadowed attacker.

From the